


Crazy little thing

by Dreamylys



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 02:50:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamylys/pseuds/Dreamylys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair thinks back on his relationship with Kallian, and realizes it's the little things that took his breath away. A love story told in snippets, in answer to a cheeky monkeys challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ostagar

**Author's Note:**

> Author's notes: Hi! Welcome to my new story! I hope you'll like it!
> 
> This is based on a prompt from the cheeky monkeys forum. If you don't already know which challenge I'm talking about, I'm not gonna say until the end of the story, so as not to spoil the ending!
> 
> *This story now has a beta, the awesome, the fantastic, the amazing Epiphany Sola Gratia! You should absolutely do yourselves a favor and go check her work: www. fanfiction . net / u/ 2610896/ (remove the spaces).

_  
_

* * *

Alistair was slowly dragging his feet across the campsite, mumbling under his breath.

"Do this, do that, go there, be nice to the grumpy revered mother and the scary mage and the pompous recruit, but is anyone nice to me? Noooo… hardly seems efficient if I'm the only nice one…"

He kept his eyes on the ground, kicking stones and dirt as he grudgingly made his way to the elevated space where the mage was supposed to be. He stopped abruptly when the kicked stones hit a pair of worn leather boots. A pair of boots he knew only too well. "Oh sh…"

"Alistair." Duncan's voice held the familiar blend of amusement, worry and slight exasperation when he said his name.

"Heeey, Duncan, you're back! I was just on my way to deliver a message to the mages. From the revered mother. A very polite, very nice message about being friends."

"I see." Duncan sounded hardly convinced. "When you're done, come back to the campfire. Oh, I sent the new recruit after you. And Alistair…"

He recognized the look on his mentor's face.

"Oh, don't you dare tell me to…"

"Be nice."

"Ugh!" Alistair grunted. "I  _am_  nice! Any nicer and pink petals are going to come out of my mouth when I talk!"

"Even so. Be especially nice, then. She's… been through a lot."

Duncan walked away, leaving a slightly gaping Alistair behind.

"Hum… she's a  _she_?"

* * *

_He remembers the first time he saw her._

_Ostagar. That cursed place was the home of so many memories, but this one was the only one Alistair cherished. If he had to remember all of the horrors of Ostagar for the rest of his life, just so he can keep the one memory of her walking up to him, he would gladly do so._

" _She's so… small," he remembers thinking when he caught sight of her, his eyes drawn to the movement of her approach before coming back to the less pleasing sight of the mage he was arguing with. And she was, more so than any elf he had met before. He caught himself sneaking glances at her while the mage fumed needlessly at him._

" _Maybe it is because of her armour," he thought._

_The leathers were obviously not hers, probably made for a human. The straps were all tied to their tightest, giving the armour an odd shape around her body, and she still seemed to float inside it. The tip of the one-handed sword on her back was almost touching her calf. Even her pigtails were tiny, although she had many of them, sticking out in every direction around her head. She looked like a little girl trying to play at war._

_She was waiting, silently, like someone who is used to not being noticed. He saw her gaze lower to the floor for no more than a second, then her head snapped back up with an air of defiance, and she looked at him. Her shoulders, once hunched like she was expecting to be struck, then straightened, and her chin went proudly up. She was like a little, scared girl that kept reminding herself she had to be brave._

* * *

He thought he was doing a pretty good job of being nice to the mage. So what if his voice sounded a bit like he was laughing on the inside? That was just the way his voice was. Surely nobody could fault him for that, right? Nobody could say that he wasn't  _nice_ , that's for sure.

He saw her coming out of the corner of his eye, but didn't stop speaking with the mage, even as he kept glancing back at her. Being nice had turned out to be quite fun, this time around. He might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Only when the mage threw his hands in the air in defeat and stomped away did he truly turn to get a good look at her.

" _All right Ali. First impressions and everything. Say something clever. Witty. Funny."_

"You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."

"…  _wait, what? What does that even mean?"_

He could have kicked himself. Another first impression went down the gutter. She looked at him, biting her lower lip, pondering that for a while. She seemed unsure of what to make of him, or even of how to stand in his presence. She had green eyes, he found out: big, green, uncertain, wary eyes… and freckles.

"You're a very strange human," she finally blurted out, and her eyes widened. Her hand twitched, as if she was about to clasp it over her mouth. He had the impression she was used to her mouth leading her into trouble. He knew the feeling all too well.

Alistair shrugged, trying to look nonchalant and having no idea if he succeeded.

"You're not the first one to tell me that," he continued blabbering after that. He was pretty sure he said something about a toad at one point.

" _Maker…"_

Only then did it occur to him that she might just be the new recruit he had to be extra nice to.

" _Fantastic."_

* * *

_He remembers how she abruptly stopped as they got to the mabari kennels. When the kennel master asked her to muzzle one of them, she looked at him warily, as if she was suspecting some kind of trap._

" _What makes you think I can do it?" she asked him._

_As the master explained about tainted blood and Warden immunity, her eyes were fixed on the sick dog on the other side of the fence. The expression on her face went from tense and wary to one he could only describe as cautiously hopeful. It wasn't exactly lighting up, but it was the least guarded emotion she had shown up until then, and it made him want to see her… let her guard down more often._

_She must have known what mabaris were, of course. She already knew they were generally a sign of prestige. She chewed on her lip, then reluctantly turned to him, indicating that he should be the one to do it. He shook his head, said something funny about not getting along with dogs, and had the satisfaction to see the glimmer of cautiously controlled longing in her eyes again._

_He thought he could see her hands shake slightly as she entered the kennel. When the mabari submitted to her touch and she put the muzzle in place, he could hear her sigh. She promised to look out for some flower, out in the Wilds, that was supposed to help the dog recover._

_She shot a last, lingering look to the sick animal before continuing on her way. Letting herself hope for things she thought she could never have._

* * *

He couldn't get over the way she rebuffed that Daveth guy.

He was the first recruit they ran into and the both of them had a quick chat, sizing each other up. She was curt, he stayed light, and she seemed oddly satisfied with him in the end.

"I'll watch your back if you watch mine," she finally told him, and it sounded like a prudent seal of approval on her part.

"Oh, I'll watch your back," Daveth answered, half-smiling cockily.

Alistair shook his head in embarrassment. At least it reassured him about his own stupid mouth…

Kallian's reaction, however, was completely different. She stilled, and slowly went pale.

"Or I could just kill you," she said, her voice flat.

"Hey, now, that's a little extreme, don't you think?" Daveth backed away, shooting Alistair a questioning glance, but the warrior was too astonished to be of any help to the poor guy.

He took a mental note never to playfully flirt with the tiny elf…  _ever._

He couldn't wait to see how she'd handle Ser Jory.

She didn't disappoint.

* * *

_People kept accosting her rudely, calling her elf, asking her to do this or that. Each time, there was a second where he would see her recoil slightly, head bowed obsequiously, before pride and anger made her stand straight again. She informed each person that talked to her that way that she was not, in fact, a servant. The words were always polite, but the voice was often shaking with fury._

_When he cautiously asked her if she was okay, hiding his concern behind some humorous remark, she just shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself. "Old habits die hard, I guess. Obedience kept me hidden and safe for so long. It seems I just don't know how to be free."_

_When the quartermaster asked her why she was dressed so preposterously, Alistair had half a mind to step between them and just punch him square on the nose._

_She was just so tiny. He only wanted to protect her._

_She needed protection._

* * *

_He remembers when that thought went flying out the window._

_Maker, she could_ fight _._

_In the wilds, she had been careful, using her weapons with caution. She'd kept glancing back at him, and he'd gotten the impression he was supposed to say something. He had risked a veiled compliment on her fighting skills, and only gotten a wary, angry glare in response, along with the coldest silent treatment he'd ever received. He'd shut up after that._

_However, in the tower of Ishal with time running out and lives depending on them, she was unstoppable. No more caution, no more restraint. He could only stare and gape as she shoved her dagger deep into a genlock's chest, keeping him in place as her longsword came swooping up, decapitating the monster. She shook the dagger free and stepped forward, kicked the next assailant in the gut, whirled and slashed him across the chest with both her weapons. The darkspawn grazed her arm with his blade as he fell, but she didn't even seem to notice._

_She didn't look small anymore._

_As they made their way through the tower, running and killing, she had a cold, empty expression on her face that frightened him._

" _Kill, kill, kill…" she breathed, again and again, never stopping, never hesitating, and all he could do was_ _follow, trying not to let enemies surround her._

* * *

Okay, this was bad… real bad. He was storming this darkspawn-infested tower at full speed, and his knees were screaming at him to please stop running up stairs for just a second. Behind him, he could hear the mage wheeze, fighting for breath.

Wasn't he used to living in a tower? They probably didn't go running around the place all day long, though. That would be a stupid thing to do. So there was that.

Plus. You know. His new comrade-in-arms was crazy: the bloody, stabbing, scary kind of crazy, too.

All right, maybe not crazy…  _dedicated_. Yes, that was a more positive spin on the situation.

Still, he ought to say something. She seemed completely lost to reality, as if she wasn't really there.

"I don't understand," he risked saying. "I thought the tower was deserted. Where did all of these darkspawn come from?"

She blinked through the blood that smeared her face and looked back at him. He could see her eyes slowly become more focused, less dilated. She looked down at her sword and dagger as if she was about to let them fall on the floor.

Uh-oh. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. What was wrong with her?

"Were… weren't you complaining that you didn't get to fight?" she answered him, clearly struggling for words.

The relief of having finally gotten through to her made him chuckle softly. "Hey, you're right! I guess there  _is_ a silver lining."

He saw her breathe in, breathe out, then she took a couple of careful steps in the circular room.

There were more darkspawn up ahead, of course, and he lost her to the bloodlust again.

" _Oh, well. I'll think of something else to say before we reach the next floor. Maybe even something actually clever, this time…"_

One could dream.

* * *

_She rushed to the ogre as if he was just another hurlock. Alistair threw himself into the fight as well, determined to keep the monster's attention on himself. He succeeded all too well. The ogre grabbed_ _him, shook him, breaking what seemed like every bone in his body, and threw him aside, where he very promptly lost consciousness._

_He came to just in time to see her deal the killing blow. She was flying, he thought confusedly for a second, seeing her jump, shoving both her weapons inside the ogre's chest, keeping balance with her feet on the beast as he fell down. She jumped down the corpse and turned to look at him. She was wounded and bloody, breathing with difficulty through clenched teeth, her eyes crazed and full of rage._

_And still her lips were moving. "Kill, kill, kill…"_

_The vision made his blood run cold._

_She lit the beacon._

_Then, merciful darkness engulfed him again._

_  
_


	2. Haunted

_He remembers the first time he heard her laugh._

_They were in camp, just after Lothering, on their way to Redcliffe. He was sitting by the fire, his gaze lost in the movement and colours of the flames. He was still wrapped in his own cocoon of pain after Ostagar and was barely aware of what was going on around him. He fought, ate, slept, and fought again. Sometimes he stared into fires and remembered. Not too often, though. It was oddly comforting and painful at the same time._

_Sten was standing close enough that Alistair was vaguely aware of Kallian walking up to the big warrior and asking him some questions about his people. He heard Sten's answer and his eyebrows shot up. He still remembers every word:_

_"People are not simple. They cannot be summarized for easy reference in the manner of: The elves are a lithe, pointy eared people who excel at poverty."_

_There was a stunned silence after that._

_And then Kallian laughed._

_It was such an unexpected sound that Alistair unwillingly turned his head to look at her. She was genuinely amused. Her eyes sparkled, her lips curved into a self-deprecating smile. It made his heart ache._

_She was laughing at_ Sten _?_

* * *

"Do you want to talk about Duncan?" she asked, sitting on the ground next to him.

He didn't turn to look at her, keeping his gaze on the flames. He wanted to talk, and yet he wanted to be left alone. He wanted her to go and he wanted her to stay.

Grief really didn't agree with him.

"You don't have to do that. I know you didn't know him as well as I did."

She kept silent, and he risked a glance her way. She was staring at the fire as well, and her mouth kept opening and closing, as if she was about to say something but constantly changed her mind.

"I've lost people too, you know," she finally breathed. Her voice was soft, but he still heard the hurt tone beneath her sympathetic words.

She hugged her knees, pressing them to her chest, and she absent-mindedly ran her hands up and down her adorned leather boots. He caught a glimpse of a shiny, simple ring on her left hand.

"You're married?" he blurted out.

Her eyes snapped back to him, hurt and angry. She slipped her right hand over her left to cover the ring.

He closed his eyes and turned his head away. He felt like slapping himself across the face. She  _just_  told him she'd lost people. " _Stupid, stupid…"_

"Nice talking to you," she said, standing up.

"Kallian!" he called as she walked away. She turned to look at him.

"Did you really find Sten funny when he said that?"

She raised her eyebrows then shook her head with a sad little smile.

"No, only surprisingly, disturbingly accurate."

* * *

_He remembers the first time she touched him._

_They were approaching Redcliffe and he knew he had to tell her the truth about his lineage before they met someone that would tell her for him. So he took her aside and poured his heart out to her._

_She listened without a word, arms crossed, and her expression was so unreadable he wondered if she understood him clearly. Her face was slowly getting paler, though, and he began to worry._

" _You're a noble," she said at last, her voice flat._

" _Well… yes, but no, not really… I mean, sure, in one way…"_

_He was looking down in embarrassment, trying to find the words to explain. That's why he never saw it coming._

_She punched him, square in the jaw, so hard he saw stars._

_On their way to the Tower, after Redcliffe, she approached him on the road and gave him his mother's amulet. She answered all of his frantic questions about the trinket with growing unease, keeping her eyes on the road before them. When he asked her if she had remembered him talking about it, she finally looked at him._

" _I'm sorry," she blurted out, her voice rough. "I shouldn't have punched you. I'm not… it's just… I hate…" She sighed heavily, "Look, I know you're not like every other noble. I'm not stupid, I can see it. You just took me by surprise. So I hope the gift makes you happy," and that was that._

_They didn't speak again until they got to the tower._

_He had forgiven her long ago, of course; but she was kind of cute when she was babbling and remorseful, he thought to himself._

* * *

He'd never felt less like a templar in his whole life. Maker knows that was saying something.

It was easy enough to eradicate evil when it was rushing to cut your head off, when it was ugly and deformed and looked like it had a second face growing over the first one. Evil abominations were so weird. He was still trying to figure out why abominations ran barefoot.

It was a lot less easy to eradicate evil when it was young, blonde and female, dressed in very figure-hugging mage robes, staring at you in the face with teary eyes, begging you to let it go. He would have been the worst templar ever.

For maybe the hundredth time, he congratulated himself on making the tiny scary elf the leader.

He was standing behind Kallian, so he could not see her face, but it seemed to him she was taking a very long time to answer. She wasn't considering letting the girl go, was she? The "girl" was a declared blood mage. She just attacked them with blood magic. She only surrendered when it was clear she was losing.

All right, they  _did_  barge in brandishing swords… Still.  _Blood mage._

Then again, she had told the mage in the dungeons at Redcliffe castle ( _Jathan? Johann?_ ) to go too, and he had poisoned the arl.

Well if she didn't kill the girl, he wasn't about to. Of course, that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

"You can go, but I'm not helping you escape," Kallian said at length, watching impassively as the girl hastily scrambled to her feet and hurried away. Alistair caught Kallian by the arm as she was turning away to continue. She stopped, looked at his hand on her arm, then up at him. He felt sweat forming on his brow and cleared his throat as his gaze fell on his own hand holding her.

" _Well, would you look at what I'm doing? That can't be smart…"_

Then he should move his hand, right? Why wasn't his hand moving?

She arched her eyebrows and he shook himself mentally. It was certainly worse if he grabbed her and then didn't say anything.

"Why?" he simply asked.

He could feel her relax under his fingers. No, not relax. She was… kind of sagging. She took a deep breath and met his eyes.

"I know what it is," she said, "to do everything you can, even turn yourself into a monster, because you feel the need to escape, because you need to save the people that are important to you. I know of the regrets it brings, and I saw them in her eyes: so she gets to go. We'll see if she can live with it."

There was a flash of something in her eyes that made his heart skip a beat. She moved to get out of his grasp, but he held on to her.

"Can  _you_?" he asked, his heart in his throat.

This time she did relax, and he even got a smile… a whole smile, just for him.

"I'm getting there."

* * *

_He remembers the first time she opened up to him._

_They were waiting by Jowan's body. She had sent the blood mage in the Fade, to try and save the arl's son. Everyone else was scattered inside the castle, checking on Connor or on Eamon for signs of change. The Wardens were on blood mage duty. Alistair didn't ask, but part of him knew why she specifically asked for him to be there. His sword was drawn._

_They were sitting in somewhat uncomfortable silence. Alistair was passing the time trying to figure her out. He felt he knew her a bit better since Ostagar, but his first reactions of her still seemed accurate. She was tiny. She was scary. She could fight… and yet all he wanted to do was protect her. There was suffering in her past, and it was shaping the woman she was becoming. There was a constant shadow in her eyes… and the way she constantly reacted to Bann Teagan, as if she couldn't believe he could be that nice to her… she could seem at the same time very confident and very self-deprecating. But when she fought…_

" _Do you think I'm scary?" she whispered suddenly, and he shook himself from his reverie._

_Maker, could she read minds?_

" _Ah… why?"_

" _When you talked to Wynne, you called me the "tiny scary elf." You're scared of me?"_

_He remembered the conversation. He hadn't thought she could hear him._

_Was he really? It was worth thinking over._

_She could be scary at times. There was a darkness in her, sometimes an intense sense of focus in battle, as if she wasn't aware of her surroundings… or rather, aware of completely different surroundings rather than that of reality._

_Maybe scared wasn't the right word, but she could be scary. She rarely smiled, almost never laughed. She seemed constantly surrounded by an aura of pain. He remembered what that felt like._

" _Not scary," he finally said. "More like… haunted." He tried to explain to her what he meant. She listened with an unreadable expression on her face._

" _That's… that's not who I am," she said at length. "That's not who I want to be. I don't want my past to shape my life. Not_ that _past, anyway. I wasn't even aware it was."_

_She thought about it for a short while, then got up._

" _It won't. I won't let it. Things are gonna change." She smiled at him hesitantly. "Will you… will you help me?"_

_She does need protection._

" _Anything."_

_She nodded then left the room, leaving him all alone with the potential abomination._

" _Change takes time," he smiled to himself._

_  
_


	3. Brandy

He was lying awake on his bedroll, hands behind his head, trying not to think about the enormity of the task before them, when he heard her call him softly from outside.

"Alistair? Are you asleep?"

"No," he answered, sitting up. "Is something wrong?"

"No… are you alone?"

He chuckled, before realizing she was serious.

"Ah… yes."

"Are you decent?"

"Yes," he said again, more than intrigued. "What's going on?"

"I'm coming in," she said, pushing the flaps of his tent apart with her foot. She slipped inside his tent rather awkwardly, her full hands making it difficult to keep balance. She was holding a lantern, two shot glasses, and a bottle of Antivan brandy. The real good stuff, too, judging by the label. She sat cross-legged on the floor and he backed away, moving his feet to give her space. To say that he was surprised was an understatement.

"Where did you get that?" he said, pointing to the bottle, deciding to begin with the easiest question. She blushed slightly.

"Ah… arleamonsprivatecellar," she mumbled, so quickly he did not understand one word.

"What?"

She sighed and looked up at him as if defying him to say something, but he could see she was trying not to laugh.

"Arl Eamon's private cellar," she said more audibly. He grinned at her.

"Okay… so… What's the occasion? Is it my birthday?"

She shook her head, laughing.

"No, silly! You don't even know when your own birthday is?"

"I do," he said defensively. "What I don't know for certain is what  _today_  is."

"It's not  _your_  birthday," she said. "It's mine."

" _What?"_  Alistair thought, frantically trying to remember if anything in his pack could pass for an acceptable gift. The only things he could think of were the gifts she had given him and… well, he couldn't do that.

"Ah… I didn't know… I… I haven't gotten you anything."

"That's okay. I didn't want to make a big thing out of it. We're pretty busy after all. Anyway, I have everything I want right here. I know what I want you to give me for my birthday."

"I'm… not sure I follow…"

"You told me how it was, with the other Grey Wardens. The friendship, the camaraderie, the drinking, the boasting, the passing out… I use to have it, you know. I miss it. That's… that's what I want."

"Okaaay… but there was usually a lot more of us involved," he warned.

Her smile vanished somewhat, and she carefully avoided his eyes as she took extra care to arrange the bottle and glasses on the ground between them.

"Yeah, well… you're all I've got."

He cleared his suddenly tightening throat.

"All right then," he said, opening the bottle and filling the glasses, "one awesome Grey Warden gathering, coming up!"

Her smile returned and she grabbed her drink.

"All right. Tell me if you know this one:  _There once was a woman, she lived in the sea…_ "

Alistair listened to the rest of the naughty poem with wide eyes. Well that was a side of her he never saw!

" _My wife gets suspicious when I come home smelling like fish!_ " she finished, laughing, and downed her drink in one shot. "Your turn!"

"Ah… all right, let me think of something…"

He came up with something not too horrible, and the night went on. They went through the bottle of good brandy fairly quickly, and Kallian went back to her tent to fetch a couple of bottles of the less expensive stuff. Of course, by that time, it didn't really matter.

By the third bottle, Alistair was telling her all about his childhood.

"… and when I woke up in the stall ol' Betsie bit me on the… on my… well, let's just say she wasn't a lady about it!"

Kallian burst out laughing, spilling some of the hard liquor on his bedroll, but he couldn't care less. He couldn't believe how good it felt to hear her laugh.

"When I was five," she said excitedly, "I brought a stray cat home, and he bit part of my ear off! See?" She moved her hair to show him her ear. She had a tiny dent and a white scar on the soft part of the lobe.

He scoffed. "This little thing? That's nothing! Good ol' Betsie had a set of teeth on her like you wouldn't believe!"

"You're right, I don't believe! Show me!"

"What? I'm not… I'm not gonna  _show_  you!"

"Then I win!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't aware this was a contest!" he said, laughing. "What is it anyway, whose life was worse? Because I think I got you beat!"

She leaned towards him, somewhat unsteadily, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"Bring it on."

He looked at her with amused incredulity.

"All right… For most of my childhood, I lived in the stables and slept with the dogs."

"Well I…" She frowned, wrinkling her nose as if thinking was a bit of a challenge. "… no, you win this one, I mean, my house wasn't much to look at, but it wasn't a  _stable_!"

She downed her drink and poured herself another one, motioning for him to continue.

"When I was in training to become a templar, at least once a week I was sent to scrub the cauldrons and then went to bed without supper, because the commander didn't like my attitude." He made air quotes around "attitude" and she laughed.

"That one time," she said, "my dad lost his job, and we went days without eating anything until my dad went to the neighbours to beg for some food because I couldn't get up anymore."

He looked at her, appalled, but she returned his gaze with only giddy anticipation. Shaking his head slightly, he downed his drink and she applauded, laughing.

"All right, I got another one. I was forced to go to this party, see. It was one of the Wardens' birthday, and he said the only thing he wanted was a woman, so because I was the youngest recruit the others dressed me up in sexy women clothes and made me come out of this giant fake pink cake."

She roared with laughter at his sad mimics. "You're making this up!"

"I wish," he said, pouting, and she laughed again.

Her laughter subsided as he reached to the bottle to refill his glass. She was thinking hard, he could see, and he watched with growing worry as the smile faded slowly from her face and her expression became very serious.

"I was forced to go to this party, see," she said, and there was no trace of laughter in her voice whatsoever. "I was to get married to this stranger from Highever. It was an arranged marriage, and I was very nervous. When I saw Nelaros, I was… I was so relieved. He seemed kind, and handsome, and he promised me he was going to spend the rest of his life learning how to make me happy. During the ceremony, the arl's son came to the alienage. He was looking for women to… liven his party. He took my bridesmaids and me to his estate. The guards… they killed my friend when she protested, right in front of us. They dragged all of my other friends outside, and I was left alone with these two guards who were telling each other what… what they were going to do to me. They had the front of my wedding dress ripped to shreds when Soris came and threw me a sword. A… a sword Duncan had lent him, so he could come and save me. I killed them."

A shaky sigh escaped her lips and Alistair reached out to her, but she flinched and he let his hand fall. Her voice got lower, colder, as she continued.

"I killed them all, every guard, every person that got in my way. Soris and me finally got to this room, and Nelaros was there, facing a group of guards. He… he had come for me. I knew him for about an hour and a half, and he was risking his life for me. He… he was killed. Right there, right before my eyes. We weren't even married yet, not really… He still had my wedding ring on him."

She angrily wiped away the tears that had started falling from her eyes.

"When we got to the arl's son, he had… my cousin Shianni, she was… she already had been…" She shook her head, unable to finish. "He tried to  _negotiate_  with me," she said, spitting the word out as if it was poison. "I killed him. The arl of Denerim's son. I gutted him like the pig he was, and I revelled in his blood. When the guards came for me, Duncan conscripted me before they could drag me away."

She took a deep, shaky breath, clutching at her shot glass with both hands, not looking him in the eyes. Alistair was stunned. All he could think of was that he wished she hadn't told him this story while he was so thoroughly, mind-numbingly  _drunk_. Maybe then he would have known how to comfort her.

As he silently looked at her, though, he suddenly could see clearly she didn't want comfort, nor pity. She could have told that story anytime if that was what she wanted. If he was to reach out to her now, he knew she would flinch, or go away, or hit him. She was full of rage, not sadness, and she already seemed to regret telling him her story. So he went about this delicate situation the best way he knew how.

_Awkward humour._

"So… not even a fake pink cake then?"

She looked at him then in total disbelief, and a surprised, loud burst of laughter passed her lips before she could think about it further.

"No, sorry. No cake. Just blood and doom."

"Ah. Then… well I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to drink."

"What? No way!"

"Oh, please! My dress had  _lace_. And I had to wear a wig! A blond one, with curls and ribbons!"

She snorted, but he could see in her eyes a glimmer of gratitude as she obediently downed her drink. He refilled her glass.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak at that moment.

Two drinks later, he was telling her another story about Grigor the Mountain when she literally passed out, sprawled across his tent floor, and started snoring softly.

Well.  _Well._  So much for that.

He found a way to lie down without touching her too much, and quickly fell into oblivion himself. His last coherent thought was that at least the tiny elf didn't outdrink him.

* * *

_He remembers the first time he held her in his arms._

_She awoke with a start a few hours later, gasping and sitting up beside him. It wasn't morning yet. He opened his eyes with some difficulty when he sensed her movement, and their gazes met. He could see in her eyes that memories of the past night were coming back to her and she gasped again, a strange, strangled, desperate sound, as if something inside her was breaking. In a second he was sitting up, arms opened wide, and she fell against him, her body shaking with violent, muted, gasping sobs._

_It felt like slowly drowning, he thought, to hold her in his arms as she wailed in desperation, and to know he could do nothing else. His heart was pounding, and he could barely breathe without choking, as if something was pressing strongly on his chest. She was so tiny in his arms, so fragile…_

" _I'm still there…" she whispered, her voice husky and scared. "Every time I close my eyes, every time I raise my weapons and rush to battle, it's like I'm still there, still trapped, and still too late… I… I can't escape…"_

_She grasped at his shoulders and he moved a hand to her hair, gently rocking her in his arms._

" _Shh… you're here, you're safe… I'm here…"_

_She seemed to calm down a bit, her breathing still shaky and uneven but the sobs subsiding slowly._

" _I don't wanna close my eyes anymore," she murmured against his chest._

" _Well… maybe you'll be lucky and you'll only get the happy, fluffy, darkspawn-infested nightmare this time," he said before he could think, and immediately felt like punching himself, or picking any direction and start running far, far away. Why did he always do that?_

_She chuckled softly through her tears and he felt relief wash over him. She wasn't mad._

" _Yeah… I should be so lucky," she whispered, sniffling._

" _Just go to sleep," he said, his voice soft, soothing. "You're right here in camp with us. And when you wake up, maybe Leliana will be making breakfast. I bet she'll be humming while cooking too, I mean, the girl even hums while killing darkspawn! And maybe Wynne will be reading, or mending some clothes, and Morrigan will make some tea I absolutely will not drink, and Zevran will stare luridly at everyone… and then we'll roll up our tents and be off to a merry day of Grey Wardening…"_

_He felt her head becoming heavier on his shoulder, her breathing getting more even. He lay her back down on the tent floor and wrapped his own blanket around her. He lay down on his back beside her, hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. He did not find sleep again that night._


	4. Clueless

Things were  _awkward_.

First of all, Kallian woke up that morning in his tent, her eyes all puffy and her hair tousled in such an endearing way, looking so adorably confused, and he felt something warm stirring deep in his chest. It only took a minute though before she turned slightly green and dragged herself out of the tent on hands and knees just in time to throw up everything in her stomach… and the feeling was  _gone._

He closed his eyes, took deep breaths in an attempt to settle his own upset stomach and lay back with a growl, a hand on his forehead to try and keep his brain from spilling out of his skull.

Zevran, of course, was up and enjoying every minute of the show.

"Ah, my lovely Grey Warden, surely a night with Alistair is not  _that_  bad, yes?"

Stupid assassin with his stupid accent and his stupid… good mood…

"Shut up, Zev," came a strained reply from outside the tent, and Alistair smiled despite his horrible state.

Wynne was far nicer about the whole thing that she should have been, healing the both of them without any fuss. Alistair had a feeling the mage knew about Kallian's story and thought the young elf was entitled to a little debauchery. Or maybe she heard everything. Tents weren't very private, after all.

But then they had breakfast and broke camp and walked, and walked, and walked, and Kallian didn't talk to him all day. It was clear she was regretting their little drinking contest. Sometimes he would catch her throwing glances at him, but she would turn her gaze back on the road when she realized he was watching her. What was that all about?

That night, she sat aside with Leliana and spent the whole night talking to her in hushed tones. Well, so much for their blossoming friendship. Maybe she  _was_  mad because of all the bad jokes… That left him by the fire with nothing to do but talk to Zevran or Sten. He considered shoving his sword through his own torso and banging on the pommel with his shield to make this night more fun.

The next morning, it was raining and they all decided they could afford a late start. He was snugly wrapped in his covers, keeping warm in the comfort of his tent, when he heard Kallian ask Zevran if he would train with her. They were going to train in this rain? He poked his head outside.

They were.

Not only that, but Zevran was not in armour. Instead, he was only wearing a white shirt and loose trousers. Of course, his shirt was soon soaked with rainwater and it became very transparent, clinging to his chest like a second skin, exposing his stupid muscles and tattoos to Kallian's eyes and… hands, and the stupid blond elf was forever slipping behind her, moulding his body to hers as he helped her raised her arm in a particular stance, and murmuring in her ear as she moved into him, and sliding his stupid fingers down her arm, and smiling his stupid smile at her progress and  _why was he getting so upset over this?_

Why was she training with the assassin instead of with him? Okay, maybe they were both dual-weapons fighters but he could teach her… stuff…

He only wanted to protect her, he decided. Zevran was a dangerous assassin hired to kill them both. He shouldn't be that close to her. She looked even smaller, out there in the warm rain, with her ginger hair flatten on her head, locks of it clinging to her cheeks as raindrops fell on her face, rolled over her rosy lips, down her throat and then lower under her armour, and there was that warm feeling in his chest again and  _what was that all about?_

That day, he was the one who wasn't talking to her on the road. He was mad at her and he didn't really know why, but his anger was perfectly _justified_.

And so she didn't talk to him and he didn't talk to her, and she was whispering and Leliana was giggling and glancing his way, and Zevran kept staring at him with this lurid grin and he didn't know why any of this was happening but really?  _Awkward!_

* * *

_She was in awe of the Dalish. She ran around their camp, talking to everyone who would speak to her, looking at every statue they had lying around. She spent hours leaning on the fence, watching the hallas with fascination. He found her impossibly adorable when she sat at Sarel's feet and listened with wide eyes filled with wonder to the story of the Dales. It was the first time he saw her so truly happy._

_She talked to Cammen and immediately took the matter in her own hands, promising to speak with Gheyna. It was so endearing, the way she took everything that concerned them to heart. She sat by the red-haired elf and listened as the girl explained the reasons why she couldn't be with Cammen. Kallian shook her head slowly._

" _If you love him," she began, "it doesn't matter…" She stopped suddenly and her eyes widened. She gasped softly, as if she was realizing something that surprised her greatly. It took a couple of seconds before she finished her sentence: "… it doesn't matter what he is, does it?"_

" _But what if he never becomes a proper hunter? What will become of our family?" Gheyna was asking, but Kallian didn't seem to listen anymore, lost in thoughts._

" _Why should everything depend on him?" she was saying, and it was an answer to Gheyna's question, but she seemed to be talking to herself. She was looking far away and biting her lower lip thoughtfully._

" _I know I cannot be like you, both woman and a Grey Warden, but I can be formidable in my own small way, can't I?" Gheyna was saying excitedly, jumping to her feet to go speak to Cammen. Kallian stayed where she was, looking slightly stunned._

" _I_ am _a formidable woman, aren't I?" she whispered to herself, as if coming to some sort of inner conclusion._

_He should have known, right then, that it had nothing to do with two, random Dalish in love. All of the hints were there._

_He had always been clueless._

* * *

Kallian was acting strange.

Not her usual crazy strange, though: more like… like  _weird_  strange. He first noticed it while they were exploring the Brecilian forest, looking for Witherfang. Suddenly she was beside him, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. She cleared her throat.

"So… has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?"

Well… she didn't talk to him at all for days and then she threw this bombshell at him. Really strange!

He tried to truthfully answer the question because, really, what else could he do? She was frowning deeper and deeper the more he talked, though, so he was most certainly doing something wrong there. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it and bit her lower lip.

"Wait…" she interrupted him. "When you say those women were… 'not like me,' are you… are you actually telling me about a time you were told you were handsome by a bunch of whores?"

"Hum… no?" he tried, and she sighed. "Wait…" he said as something occurred to him, "… is that your way of telling me  _you_  think I'm handsome?"

"Never mind," she said with a sigh, walking away.

He watched her go, bewildered.

"What?" he called after her, but she just waved him away. He turned to Leliana, "That was strange, right? She's weird, then, it's not just me, right?" Leliana patted him condescendingly on the shoulder, which didn't make him feel better at all.

Then later, at camp, the whole thing seemed to be forgotten. They were both sitting cross-legged facing each other, and he was trying to teach her how to make a blade of grass sing by pressing it between his palms and blowing on it. She was awful at it, mostly because she would begin blowing and then burst into fits of laughter that ruined the whole effort.

"No, wait, you need to open your hands a little, just the tiniest bit of space between the two… here," he said, holding her hands in his to position them correctly. She looked at him above their joined hands, smiling.

"I need to tell you how much I enjoy your company," she said softly. He chuckled.

"You know, I was just thinking the same thing. Given the circumstances, things could have been so much worse. I'm so grateful that you're… you, instead of… some other Grey Warden…"

Yeah, this time he could see where he went wrong. She wasn't smiling anymore, and gently took her hands from his.

"Umm… that sounded better in my head. I just mean to say that I've… really come to care about you."

As he said it, he realized how much he meant it. He really did care very much for this tiny, crazy, funny elf. That seemed to be the right thing to say, too, because her smile was returning.

"Thank you, Alistair."

Now all he had to do was  _not ruin the moment_.

"Now we just need to be rid of that pesky Archdemon and everything will be back to normal, right?" He chuckled nervously.

She sighed and stood up.

"Right," she whispered, walking away.

"Even I see where this went wrong," Sten said stoically.

"I know, all right? I heard it too!" Alistair hissed between clenched teeth.

He watched as Kallian sat on the other side of the fire and dropped her face in her hands. Surely it wasn't that bad, was it? She had always laughed at his poor excuses for jokes before. What was different now?

* * *

_Love. It is a powerful thing, so powerful, in fact, that most people don't know what to do with it once it hits them. It is a well-known fact that love can make anyone look like a bumbling idiot, and Kallian was no exception. Love can sweep you off your feet, make you lose your bearings; doubt everything you thought you knew about yourself and about the world. It can hit you with the force of a tidal wave and all you can do, stunned and bewildered, is go with the flow and hope not to drown._

_It can also creep up on you, unannounced and undetected, work its way around your heart until you're left blinking in a stupor from its blinding light wondering how you didn't see it coming. It can make your heart race and your breath catch and still leave you completely oblivious to the truth._

_He was looking at her often as they fought their way through the treacherous Brecilian forest, admiring her newfound combat abilities. Her training with Zevran was bearing fruit: her movements were more precise, her technique more refined and her stance more solid. She was focused and did not lose herself in the rush of battle as much. Fighting seemed less of a brutal struggle for her, and more of a well-choreographed dance of death. Her attacks flowed effortlessly, succeeding one another in a whirlwind of destruction. He was astonished. He was in awe._

_He was distracted._

_Pain surged through him as he felt claws slashing his back, making him scream in agony and fall to his knees. He heard her call his name in a desperate cry before he lost consciousness. He woke up to the sight of her face bent over his, creased in worry, and to the feeling of a cool cloth being swept across his brow. Her eyes went wide._

" _Wynne! Wynne, he's awake! Wynne!" she shouted, getting on her feet and hurrying away. Leliana took her place by his side, picking up the cloth._

" _You've been out for almost a day and a night now." She leaned closer to whisper in his ear: "She has not left your side for a second."_

" _Really?" he managed to croak. In the distance, he could hear confused shouting._

" _Wynne!"_

" _She's asleep."_

" _I don't care!"_

_He was not aware at that time of the smile that lingered on his lips while Leliana spoke to him. He felt warmth spreading in his chest and didn't quite know what it was, but it felt very nice._

_Love can be the most potent thing of all. It can also be the subtlest._

* * *

She sat by him one the log, her hands on her knees, and stared at the air in front of her.

"So… how was life in the Chantry?"

Huh. That was weird, out of the blue like that. Maybe it wasn't his favourite subject, but at least they were talking, which was something to be grateful for. So he told her about the training and the discipline, but she barely seemed to listen, and she never looked at him. That was just insulting, really. Here he was even trying to be clever and everything. If she didn't want to talk to him why did she come? Maybe a bit of brandy would help…

"But if you were raised by the Chantry, does that mean that you never… hum…" her voice trailed and faded, and she bit her lower lip.

Ah, so that was what it was all about, this weird conversation they were having. Well, that was an even less favourite subject of his. Luckily he had mastered the art of avoidance by humour.

"Have I never what? Had a good pair of shoes? Seen a basilisk? Ate jellied ham? Licked a lamppost in winter?"

She seemed to grow more and more confused each time he added something to the list, and it was highly amusing, until she exclaimed: "No, I mean sex!" and then it was a lot less funny. Better to get this over with then, since feigning stupidity had been a huge letdown.

"I myself never had the pleasure…" he began, but she cut him off when she jumped to her feet and yelled across the fire, in a tone of voice that must have carried all the way to the other side of the Dalish camp: "No, Leli, he's never done it!"

"… _What?"_

She gasped, realizing her mistake, and her eyes widened in horror as she clasped a hand over her mouth. Leliana roared with laughter, Morrigan rolled her eyes and Zevran winked at him and said: "Well if this isn't a desperate plea for help, I don't know what is!"

All he was able to do was gape at her in disbelief and turn a shade of red that was almost purple.

* * *

_Leliana was singing something in Elven, and it was beautiful and sad, but Alistair wasn't looking at the bard. He was looking at Kallian._

_She was listening to the song, almost mesmerized, and he wondered if she knew tears were falling down her face. He yearned to go to her, hold her in his arms, to comfort her. The Dalish had not been everything she wanted them to be. Their keeper, their leader and guide, had let himself be blinded by hate. He had inflicted so much suffering._

_The Dalish were not perfect. They were real. Maybe tonight a dream was dying._

" _Do you think he felt trapped?" she had asked him as they emerged from the ruins, her voice trembling. "When he was running to save his kidnapped children, do you think he felt himself moving too slowly? Do you think he knew he would be too late to save them from their fate?"_

_Seeing the monster that you could be is unsettling, she had told Wynne once…_

_She was so beautiful, standing there with her arms wrapped around herself, her wide eyes shining with tears as she listened to the song, her trembling lips slightly parted. She was so brave, and yet so scared; so strong and yet so fragile. He wanted to be there for her, to be an arm to lean on and a shoulder to cry on. He could be her shield. He could be her knight. He could…_

He loved her.

… _and he felt like something should be happening, as the realization hit him. There should be music, loud, thundering music, like the chant reverberating on the Denerim Chantry walls when the choir sang of miracles. The sky should be opening and a white, bright ray of light should descend on him… or something._

_But there was nothing, just Leliana's voice, slowly fading as her song came to an end, just the light of the campfire flickering on her face, just the sound of his own sharp intake of breath._

_Kallian wiped the tears from her cheeks and turned to him with a world of sadness in her eyes, and before he knew it he was on his feet and walking, and his arms closed around her. It felt right._

_This was where he belonged._

_  
_


	5. Fools

All right, he needed help.

He was manly enough to admit it. He needed help because, really, he had never felt like this before and he absolutely didn't know what to do about it, except for the fact that surely at one point he was going to have to  _tell her_. The thought was enough to make his heart jump all the way up to his throat and his knees turn to jelly, which was  _not_  manly, not to mention highly uncomfortable.

He needed advice… girl advice… from  _girls_.

He should ask Leliana. Oh, or maybe Wynne. Leliana was a sure choice: she was a girl and she had loved girls before, so it was a win-win in the advice department. Wynne was… wiser, more experienced… (He did  _not_  think "older." That would have just been mean.)

Yes, he should go talk to the ladies. That was an awesome plan. He felt really good about this. It would really go well.

Now, how to broach the subject…

* * *

_It took him the better part of an hour, turning and returning the flower in his hand, to gather the courage to walk up to her and start talking._

" _Here, look at this. Do you know what this is?"_

_The look she gave him was equal parts hopeful and wary._

" _Is that a trick question?" she asked, half serious, and he had to laugh._

_He had thought about this for so long. The whole speech was prepared. He even left some room for witty, appropriate improvisation, and she tested him thoroughly, apparently searching for the catch, or waiting for the moment he would screw it up. For the first time, he said everything just right. He wanted to make her feel admired, cherished, appreciated. Somewhere in the middle of all the rambling, he convinced her._

_She took the rose, brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply, her eyes half-closing. Then she looked up at him, and the smile she gave him made his heart beat faster and his breath catch. Maker, she was so beautiful._

" _I… I feel the same way about you," she finally said, and her eyes widened as if she was surprised at her own words._

_They stood there, blushing and smiling, lost into each other's eyes. It was perfect._

_For about ten seconds._

_Then he made a joke about steamy bits, and the effect was instantaneous. The smile vanished from her face, replaced by an expression of pure anger. She looked like she was ready to throw the flower back in his face, and have it followed by another well-placed punch._

" _Excuse me? I hope you're kidding," she said, and her tone was anything but amused._

_He got out of it with his usual brilliance and she stomped away while he busied himself studying the clouds. They never spoke of it again._

_But she kept the rose._

* * *

She was looking at him from across the fire and it was beginning to make him really uneasy. Three times now he had discreetly swept his hand across his face to check if there was something disgusting stuck on it. Four times he had subtly looked down at his clothes to see if anything was amiss. He could not think of another reason why she was so intently fixated on him. What about his hair? Was it his hair? Did his hair look bad?

She finally seemed to come to some sort of inner conclusion and got to her feet. He looked at her approaching with a certain level of wariness. What had he done now? He had been so careful not to say  _anything_  all night…

She stopped a few step away from him and then looked at him through her eyelashes, squirming a little on her feet and biting at her lower lip. He stared at her in disbelief. It took all of his hard earned Templar discipline to not burst out laughing. Maker, she could  _not_  pull off being flirty! That was when his brain functions came to a crawl, then a screeching halt.

_Flirty?_

"So…" she said in a seductive purr, swaying her hips enticingly as she walked up to him, "how would you like to join me in my tent?"

Her hand was crawling up his chest.  _Her hand was crawling up his chest_  and for the life of him he couldn't think of anything else.

Maker's breath, he was not prepared for this!

"Your tent. Ah."

Oh yes, very smooth. No wonder the lady was swooning.

Sweet Andraste, how was he supposed to explain this to her? Oh, yeah, that's right, he knew how: very awkwardly, with bad jokes and nervous chuckles, and maybe manage to throw in a nice stuttered compliment or two to try and salvage everything.

Her hand was still on his chest, but it wasn't moving anymore, and he silently thanked the Maker for small favours.

"Are you sure?" she asked him, and he nodded wordlessly. Words were not a good idea at the moment. Maybe he had finally learned when to shut up. Huh. Unlikely.

She withdrew her hand and considered him for a moment, arms crossed.

"As you wish," she said finally, but he just had time to catch her satisfied smile as she turned away. He suddenly had the impression he had just passed some kind of test. He had about a second to feel proud of himself.

Then he thought about what she said, how she looked, and the mental images flooded his brain.

* * *

_They were on their way to Denerim. She had said that Leliana needed help with something she had to do in the city, and they all needed to meet this Genetivi for Arl Eamon; but she had looked at him and smiled, and he knew she was going to make some time so he could go see his sister. She was going to do this for him._

_They would sit side by side at night, talking, learning more about each other. That meant he could spend all his nights looking at her, seeing her smile, laugh and bite her bottom lip in that cute little habit she had. He noticed the way she would always play with a lock of her hair when she spoke of her family, the way her hands would run up and down her boots while she listened to him. Talking to her was so easy, so natural, and he wondered why it had been so complicated before._

* * *

She was talking to Zevran again.

And Alistair was  _not_  staring, and was  _not_  trying to lean closer so he could hear, but really, there was nothing else to look at. Nobody else was making any sound and… wait, did he say "massage?"

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Kallian asked, her tone carefully devoid of expression.

Zevran leaned closer to her and murmured something in her ear. She stepped back, looked at him…

… and  _punched him on the nose_.

"So you want to have your way with me?" she yelled. "You want to drag me in your tent and do all sorts of depraved sex things to me?"

"Wait, what? No!" Zevran said, sounding stunned, a hand pressed on his nose. "I mean, yes, yes, but I thought you wanted… I mean, all these hours we spent alone together, training, I thought…"

"I train with you because I want to be better, because I want to learn new skills, so that I can focus on my technique in battle instead of on…" She stopped, and pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers, breathing deeply. "This," she said, motioning between the two of them, "is strictly professional."

"Well, clearly I've misread the signs," Zevran said stiffly.

"Clearly." She turned to leave, and a flicker of something resembling remorse flashed on Zevran's face. He reached out to her.

"Kallian…"

As soon as his fingers brushed against her skin, she whirled and punched him again.

"Don't  _touch_  me!"

Zevran watched her go, carefully wiping his bloody nose. Alistair turned to Sten, a huge grin on his face.

"Isn't life wonderful?" he asked, beaming.

Sten groaned.

The next morning, Kallian approached Zevran with a gruff expression, grumbling an apology and handing him some kind of leather gloves he immediately started fussing over, and that was that. They started training again as if nothing had happened. But Alistair would always have that moment, when her fist connected with his face. He would treasure it greatly.

* * *

_His sister was… not what he had expected._

_He remembers how it felt, walking out of that house after having all of his hopes thrown back in his face. He had cherished the promise of family, kept it so close to his heart, and now that it was gone, utterly crushed, a part of him felt… empty. Hollow._

_He turned to Kallian, trying to smile in an attempt to save face. She was furious. She had tried to defend him, to explain things to his sister, until Goldanna had insinuated, with poison in her voice, that Kallian must have been his elven servant, only good for carrying his many riches. He had seen her step back then, as if Goldanna had physically struck her. She hadn't looked up after that, keeping her eyes on the floor, only repeating in a tense whisper that they needed to get out._

_She was frowning, almost visibly shaking with fury, and it made all his good intentions of putting on a brave face vanish. He had never felt so alone; there had always been this hope, this possibility of family, and he just then discovered how much having a sister would have meant to him. He thought back on the Fade dream he had had of her, trapped in the demon's realm, on how he had clung desperately to this picture of her in his mind. Kallian had saved him from that dream. He hoped she could save him from this nightmare, too._

_She was listening to him with an angry expression on her face and he could already hear what she was going to say to him: that he needed to be stronger, that he was a naïve fool. She probably believed that he had to think of himself first because apparently nobody else was going to do that for him. Her gaze shifted, then, and her expression slowly softened, changing from angry to sadly wistful. He turned to see what she was looking at and felt his heart sink._

_The closed alienage gates..._

_It had been quite the scene, when the guard told her she couldn't get in. When he said that the new arl had ordered a purge of the alienage, her face went ghostly pale. There was no way to get in, no way to know who had died, who had survived. She had clutched at the gate bars for a long time, trying to get even just a glimpse inside the alienage, to see someone… something… anything._

_Maybe she felt as alone as he did._

" _You don't need her, Alistair. You have others who care for you."_

_Her voice was soft, gentle. He was lost so deep in his despair that he didn't hear what she was trying to say._

" _Such as?" he asked._

_She looked at him, eyebrows raised, before slapping him on the forehead with her open palm. "_ I _care about you," she said, as if he was the stupidest person for not having figured it out yet._

_Maybe he was._

_Looking in her eyes, he saw her expression become more determined, "We're in this together, Alistair."_

" _That we are," he answered, smiling sadly. "I have your back. You know that, right?"_

_They only had each other now._

_  
_


	6. Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There's some subtly sexy stuff happening in here. Now you know!

He had to tell her. Those three little words were burning up inside him, and he had to tell her now. It did not matter if he wasn't prepared, if he would probably just blurt it out and then make an inappropriate joke about it. He needed to tell her.

Where was she?

He located her, on the other side of the fire, kissing Leliana. Okay, so now he just had to get up and…

_What?_

He looked again. She was  _kissing Leliana_.

He felt his heart sink all the way down to his boots. Had he been so wrong? Did he misread the signs that much? How was that even possible?

He looked in despair as she broke the kiss, then slowly shook her head from side to side, and despite himself he felt a surge of hope at the gesture. Was she denying the bard?

Leliana put a hand on her cheek and spoke softly to her. Kallian nodded wordlessly before getting up and walking to him. Oh… he was  _not ready_  for this.

"Sooo… you and Leliana, huh?" he said as soon as she was close enough to hear. He couldn't help himself.

"What? Oh, that… No, it's not… she was just showing me something," she said, sitting next to him.

"Showing you something?" he asked, snorting. "What? What her supper tasted like?"

"Eww!" she exclaimed, pushing him away playfully.

"All right, I'm sorry. It's just… well. I never thought I would see you kiss her, really. What was she showing you?"

She turned her head to look away from him, chewing her lip.

"I really don't want to talk about it."

"Kalli, it's me. What can't you talk to me about?"

She looked back at him, her expression thoughtful.

"She was showing me… how it feels to be kissed when the kiss is not forced on you."

He felt all the blood drained from his face.

"What?" he whispered.

"I guess maybe it's better if you know," she said, sighing deeply. "That day I told you about, my wedding day? It was not the first time Bann Vaughan looked to the alienage to find entertainment for his parties. He had sent someone with an offer for work, once. He was looking for elves to serve food and drinks and we were short on money so I went. There were three of us. They didn't… rape us or anything. Bann Vaughan had us stripped to our smallclothes and we walked around with trays of drinks and food."

She shrugged, as if trying to show it wasn't a big deal. Alistair reached out and took her hand, hoping that she would let him. She did.

"Some of the men… they were groping me, squeezing my ass or my breasts. Some of them kissed me, forcing their tongues in my mouth. Some of them… they wanted me to touch them." She shrugged again, but her lips were trembling. "I was lucky, I guess, most elves that went through this place had it much worse. It was not much worse than what the average tavern wench has to put up with, surely."

"Are you kidding, Kalli? It's… it's horrible!"

"Life is not that bad in the alienage, really," she assured him. "It's just that sometimes you learn some things the hard way. Some of the nobles, those who have power over us… they find us… attractive. Many a young elf learns about… about sex that way. I'm not looking for pity, it's just... I've never touched or been touched… you know… willingly. It's never been… pleasant, really. That's what I was explaining to Leliana. I'm afraid of how it will feel when I kiss y… when I kiss someone I care about. I was afraid that maybe I was… broken… so she showed me."

He squeezed her hand gently, trying to convey his compassion through the simple contact.

"And?" he asked.

She withdrew her hand and turned her head to look into the fire.

"I didn't feel anything," she breathed.

They sat side by side in silence for the rest of the evening, watching the fire. There was nothing else that could be said.

* * *

_He remembers thinking that maybe he shouldn't tell her._

_What kind of future could they really have together? He wasn't even sure of his own future anymore. He had nothing to offer her. Maybe she was just better off not knowing._

_The object of his affection sitting beside him by the fire, looking dishevelled and more than a little pissed, interrupted his thoughts._

" _Well, we're going to the Deep Roads," she said with a sigh._

_She did_ not _like the dwarves. They had a way of talking to her, imposing their will and acting as if everything was due them. She was sometimes halfway into performing whatever task they had asked of her before realizing she had been manipulated into doing so. When he pointed out that all she had to do was say no, she looked at him as if it was the craziest thing she had ever heard._

" _He's going to be_ King _," she said, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did._

_In front of these pretenders to the throne, he could catch a glimpse of the person she probably used to be. She kept her eyes low, flinching almost unnoticeably when they raised their voices. She couldn't refuse them anything._

_In spite of himself, he imagined her standing the same way in front of him and he felt sick._

" _You know, in a way,_ I _could be King," he said, careful to keep his tone light, flirty. "Are you going to do anything I want now?"_

_She burst out laughing and stood up, slapping him on the shoulder._

" _Yeah, right! Thanks, I needed that!" She leaned over him and for a second he thought maybe, maybe she was going to kiss him and his heart stopped… but she only kissed his cheek._

" _You're cute," she said with a wink, and walked away._

_He sat there, slightly stunned, his fingers ghosting over the spot on his cheek she had kissed. His heart was hammering in his chest and his stomach was doing crazy flip-flops._

_There was no way he could not tell her._

* * *

He was going to tell her, right there in the Deep Roads.

Maybe it was fate, or just oddly fitting, for a Grey Warden to declare his love for another Warden in the Deep Roads. Maybe…  _probably_ … it was mostly gross and unromantic. Then again, if he waited for a moment when they were all cleaned up and frolicking in a field of flowers, well he would never say it… would he?

She was cleaning her blades in a kind of very energetic fury. He knew she was enraged with the ever demanding dwarves and with her own inability to stand up to them, with the bloody Deep Roads and with the darkspawn that were always getting in her way. He gently took her weapons from her hands, ignoring her colourful words of protest, and started wiping the gore and blood from her face with a clean cloth. Keeping his hands busy was a good thing.

"So," he said, half-smiling, "all of this time we've spent together… you know, the tragedy, the brushes with death, the constant battles with the whole Blight looming over us… will you miss it, once it's over?"

She groaned, holding still under his ministrations. "Makes me tear up just thinking about it."

Oh, she was in a real bad mood… maybe this wasn't the best of times. Then again, when would be the best of times? When were they  _not_  covered in blood and fighting for their lives to satisfy the whims of every single person in this country? Surely, though, there could be better times than this one… She was looking at him. Why was she looking at him? Oh, right, the cloth, he was washing her face. Oh, and the conversation, she was waiting for him to carry on with the conversation.

"There'll be no more running for our lives, no more darkspawn… urgh, no more camping in the middle of nowhere…"

"I like camping," she blurted out. "Camping is the one good thing out of this whole Blight thing. It's… it's nice. Cosy." A small smile played on her lips and she took the cloth from him.

All right, she was warming up. Maybe this was as good as it could get. Time to unleash the full-on, awkward Alistair charm.

"I know it… might sound strange, considering we haven't known each other for very long, but I've come to… care for you… a great deal."

Her lips parted slightly in surprise before slowly curving in an incredulous smile. Surprise, incredulity… huh, not really what he had hoped for.

"I think maybe it's because we've gone through so much together, I don't know… or maybe I'm imagining it. Maybe I'm just fooling myself."

He reached out to her and took her hands in his. The forgotten washcloth fell to the ground. She was staring in his eyes, her gaze hopeful and filled with anticipation. Now he might be new at this, but  _that_  looked like a good sign.

"Am I? Fooling myself? Or do you think you might ever… feel the same way about me?"

"I… I think I already do," she whispered softly, as if hoping he wouldn't hear.

"So I fooled you, did I?" he murmured, leaning closer. "Good to know."

He could sense her hesitation, her sharp intake of breath just before their lips met. Then he was kissing her, and after a second she was kissing him back, and nothing mattered but the soft feeling of her mouth against his, the sweet taste of her tongue stroking his own, the sensual sound of her breath coming in short gasps as she tried to breathe without breaking the kiss. It was only the thought that maybe this was all too much and too sudden for her made him reluctantly pull back.

"That… that wasn't too soon, was it?" he said, his voice hoarse.

She looked up at him with a dreamy expression, her fingers gently pressed to her lips.

"Andraste's ass, she was right," she whispered.

Alistair chuckled. "Well that's a… confusing reaction, to say the least. Andraste's  _ass_?" He felt blasphemous just repeating it.

A burst of laughter erupted between her fingers.

"That's just… that's just something Shianni says. Leliana… Leliana was right. She told me that when I would kiss someone I love, I would feel it."

He felt as if his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He knew he must be grinning like a fool, but he didn't care.

"Someone you love?"

Her eyes widened and she clasped her whole hand over her mouth. "Damn it! I mean… I mean care about… you know, casually… care…" She shrugged. She  _actually_  shrugged.

He chuckled softly, gently pulling her hand away from her mouth and framing her face with his hands.

"I love you." There. No room for misinterpretation.

Her whole face lit up. "Yes?"

"Oh, yes," he said, nodding solemnly.

"But… but I'm sticky and dirty and disgusting and I probably have darkspawn bits in my hair…"

"You don't," he assured her. "… and I don't care. Maker's breath, but you're beautiful. I'm a lucky man." He lovingly ran his thumbs across her cheeks and she sighed in delight. "So how was that kiss? Was it… agreeable?"

She made an expression like she was thinking it over, biting her lower lip. "I don't know. I need more testing to be sure."

"Well I'll have to arrange that, then, won't I?" he said, laughing. She lifted her eyebrows in mocked surprise before smacking him on the forehead with her palm. She had taken a habit of doing this every time she felt he was being particularly daft and needed some help making obvious things fit into his head.

"Kiss me again  _now_ , you stupid man," she ordered, and he was all too happy to comply.

* * *

_She was always kissing him._

_She would jump into his arms after a successful fight, still all covered in blood (not that he cared… much). She would tug at his hand when they were walking and she felt bored. She would come to him before retiring for the night, smiling her little lopsided smile. It was always, always to kiss him._

_The kisses were evolving, too. They were less and less chaste, more and more insistent. It felt like he could never kiss her enough. Every time she pulled back, she would look at him with stars in her eyes and that dreamy, slightly amazed expression on her face that made his heart skip a beat. Kissing her was unbelievable, better than anything he could have imagined. It was pure bliss._

_It was sheer_ torture _._

_Every time their lips parted and she disentangled her hands from his hair, turning away with a last lingering look and a soft, satisfied sigh, she left him achingly_ hard _, yearning for her with an urgency that left him gasping for breath. He might be a gentleman, but he was still a man, a man in love, and a man with a young, vigorous body unaccustomed to such teasing._

_The worst part of it was that, since they were in the Deep Roads, everyone agreed that pitching tents each night and taking them down in the morning was an unnecessary loss of time. He didn't even have the semi-privacy of his tent to take care of things by himself._

_Every night, as he lay awake trying not to think of her lips on his, he only had to turn his head to the side to see her asleep only a couple of feet from him, almost within reach, and it was driving him crazy. Turning his back on her was no help at all. His dreams were full of her, smiling, kissing, stripping, touching. He was awakened one night by the violence of his orgasm, ejaculating in his pants without even having touched himself. The nights when nightmares of the Archdemon plagued him were almost a welcome relief._

_Yet each time she came to him smiling, he would seek her lips relentlessly, revelling in her sighs of contentment. He was torturing himself, but it was the sweetest kind of torture._

_  
_


	7. First knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is the chapter where I put Alistair out of his misery, in a good way. This chapter contains some sweet lemony goodness, and is NSFW. I'd say it's not overly smutty, but explicit. If you don't want to read it, suffice to say that it's Alistair's first time, and it's awkward but ultimately a lot of fun was had by all. ;) Now all you have to do is click for the next chapter! 
> 
> I usually don't listen to music as I write, but I admit shamelessly that I've been listening to "Put your arms around me" by Texas on repeat while writing this. It's not that important, I just thought maybe some readers would like to know.
> 
> Sincere thanks to my amazingly efficient beta, Epiphany sola Gratia! I strongly recommend reading her story if you haven't yet, especially The Balance of Wings, on ffnet! If you're looking for something original and different and truly well-written, you won't be sorry!

**_  
_**

* * *

This endless business with the dwarves was finally over.

Alistair felt utterly exhausted. His legs were actually shaking under him as he watched the new king of Orzammar being crowned. They had rushed to the Assembly as soon as they got out of the Deep Roads. They were all still covered in dried darkspawn blood and dust and other nasty, dirty things, like broodmother vomit. He shuddered just thinking about it.

They all dragged their feet across the Diamond Quarter all the way to the Royal Palace to officially meet the King. Why he couldn't speak to them right there in the Chamber of the Assembly and then just let them collapse in a dark corner somewhere and  _sleep_ , Alistair had no clue.

Kallian finally obtained a formal promise for troops against the darkspawn on the surface and Alistair closed his eyes in relief. Maybe now was the time for sleep. He wondered how he was going to make it back to camp. Oh wait… they still had to go to the Shaperate and speak to that widow Filda about her son…

He groaned, feeling his knees buckle under him. He was not going to make it.

"Now, if there's nothing else…" the King was saying, apparently dismissing them. Alistair sighed, trying to force his feet to move.

That was when his love said the three most wonderful words he had ever heard coming out of her mouth.

"We need rooms."

All right, maybe second most wonderful words… still, he almost fainted with relief. He thought he was done for when she added, after a pause:

"…And baths."

He felt like he was about to weep with joy at the thought. Holy Maker,  _baths_! He grasped desperately at his last shreds of self-control to keep an impassive face.

The King was apparently not in a position to disagree. They had been before his eyes (and under his nose) for a certain time now.

"Of course," he said amiably. He gestured to some servants and they were promptly escorted to very comfortable guest rooms. Baths were drawn, food was brought and then he was left utterly, deliciously  _alone_.

He peeled off his armour and piled it up in a corner before digging voraciously into the food. Once his hunger was sated, he removed the rest of his clothes and sank into the warm water of the bath. After a very thorough scrubbing, he let himself lay back and enjoy the warmth. No sooner was his head resting against the edge of the tub than he fell asleep.

Someone knocking on the door awakened him. The water was cold and he felt somewhat rested from this short nap.

"Just a second!" he shouted, coming out of the tub and drying himself quickly. He threw the wet towel on the floor by the bed, quickly pulled a clean shirt from his pack and put it on. Maybe it was a servant bringing in more food, he thought eagerly, opening the door wide.

It wasn't.

It was Kallian.

She was all cleaned up, her hair still wet from her bath. She was wearing her nightdress, which was actually one of his old shirts he had given her when she was complaining about having nothing comfortable to sleep in. It went all the way down to her knees and the too-long sleeves were rolled up above her elbows. She was looking at him with that little lopsided grin he knew so well and his mouth went dry. She was barefoot, without breeches and… Maker, was she  _naked_  under there?

Already there were parts of him… very  _private_  parts of him… that were strongly reacting to her mere presence. Maker have mercy, the things she could do to him…

"A kiss goodnight?" she asked, her arms stretching out, and he very nearly whimpered.

It suddenly dawned on him that he was very alone in a very private guest room… Such an opportunity might very well never present itself again.

He took her hands in his and pulled her into the room, closing the door behind her.

"All right… I guess I really don't know how to ask you this…"

He swallowed nervously, fervently hoping she would attribute his sudden blush to the warmth of the bath. No such luck, apparently.

"Are you… sweating?" she asked, and it wasn't good at all because she sounded worried, and she tenderly raised a hand to caress his brow and he found himself leaning into the light touch, wanting more of her skin against him and…  _focus_.

He babbled an incoherent answer and she listened with a small smile on her lips, apparently finding his embarrassment very endearing. It didn't help with the nervousness at all, but at least she wasn't running away… yet. He breathed deeply and took her hands back in his.

"Here's the thing… being near you makes me  _crazy_ , but I can never imagine being without you, ever."

He said something about his head exploding and she laughed, but she suddenly seemed more nervous, even a little bit wary. The suspense was apparently killing her and, really, it was killing him as well, so he just blurted out what he really wanted to say.

"I want to spend the night with you. Here."

He kept talking, watching with dread as she withdrew her hands from his to wring them together as her face paled. There was even a bit of fear in her eyes now, he thought, as he waited eagerly for her answer, any answer.

"Even though I'm not human like you?" she asked, and he could hear a tremor in her voice.

He heard what she was not saying, what she was too afraid to ask:  _"Even if I'm just an elf and you're a potential heir to the throne? Even if in another life I could have been your servant and you wouldn't even have looked at me twice?"_

"Especially because of that," he said, and it was the truth: especially because they were never meant to be and that was the perfect proof that they truly loved each other for who they were, not because of race or title, but because their feelings for each other ran deeper than the surface.

"But… but spend the night with  _me_? Are you sure?"

Was he sure? He nearly groaned. He had never been so sure of anything in his whole life. Every little bit of him was sure.

He kept talking, trying to convince her, and somewhere along the line he must have said the right thing because suddenly she was taking a step forward and gently pressing her fingers on his lips, her smile returning.

"No need to say anything else. I agree."

"All right," he said, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. "I'm going to… stop talking… now…"

Her lips replaced her fingers on his mouth, kissing him softly. As he wrapped his arms around her he was overwhelmed by the realization that there was  _no armour_  between them, and he could feel her soft, warm body moulding itself so perfectly to his as her lips moved slowly against his mouth, the tip of her tongue flicking teasingly. His mind reeled with the idea that this was  _really going to happen_  and a strangled moan, almost a sob, escaped him.

She pulled back from the kiss, both her hands flat on his chest pushing him away; then her fingers found the laces of his shirt. As she slowly undid them, he forced himself to stand still. He was so unbelievably, achingly hard for her already, and each brush of her fingers on the bare skin of his chest that she was exposing bit by bit made his breath hitch, but he didn't want to rush her.

She finally let go of the laces and her hands ghosted against his skin, sliding under the fabric. He automatically raised his arms as she pulled up the shirt over his head and let it fall on the floor. She took a step back, her wide eyes roaming all over his body, and he resisted the temptation to cross his hands over that part of himself that was so obviously begging for attention. Of course, soon enough her gaze fell  _there_ , and she took in a shaky breath as she looked back up at him, her eyes filled with wonder.

"Already?" she murmured, raising a hesitant hand towards it, and this time he couldn't keep the whimper from escaping his lips as the damned thing actually  _twitched_  in anticipation. She pulled back her hand.

"Oh, sorry, no? Too soon? Do you want to undress me first?"

Oh, so he had to choose between her hand touching him  _there_  or finally getting to see her naked? How exactly was he supposed to last through this again?

His body made the choice for him. He watched as his hands reached out by themselves, his fingers working the laces of her shirt with some difficulty. He tried to do as she did, letting the garment fall to the ground without touching her too much. She  _was_  naked under there. His hands were shaking and he let them fall to his sides as he feasted his eyes on her beautiful naked body. He wanted to be respectful and he didn't want her to feel rushed or pressured but it soon felt pretty awkward to just stand there naked looking at each other, and damn it her breasts were _just there_ …

Her gaze fell back down and an incredulous smile curved her lips, and he was painfully aware that the damn thing was twitching again, jolts of pleasure running through his whole body and he was only  _imagining_  touching her.

She took him by the hand to guide him to the bed and he followed in a sort of daze. She made him lie on his back as she nestled by his side, one of her leg slightly thrown over his and her arm draped across his chest, the contact of so much of her skin against his bringing him to new heights of pleasure. She propped herself up on her elbow and leaned over him hesitantly. Her kiss began soft and tender, and it felt extremely good, but then all of a sudden he was aware of her hand caressing his chest, teasing his nipples, of her breasts pressed against him, of her knee between his legs, and all he could do was moan helplessly against her mouth.

He tried to resist the onslaught of sensations but then she deepened the kiss, and when he felt her tongue in his mouth, soft and teasing and so inviting, he very nearly lost his mind. His hands were on her at last, roaming aimlessly, and she was so soft and so hot against him and he didn't know exactly where he was grasping her but she felt so damn  _good_  under his trembling fingers. He was gasping for breath against her mouth, trying to cling to the tattered remnants of his ability to think, yearning to tell her to  _please slow down_  but at the same time  _please don't stop_ , when he felt her hand tentatively snake down his abdomen. Then her knee slid up his inner thigh and brushed against him down  _there_ , and it was all so very, very good but it was just too much, too quick.

He broke the kiss, gasping, and tried to tell her to wait, but at the same time her fingers found their intended target and she closed her hand around him. All that came out of his open mouth was a loud, hoarse cry of pure ecstasy. His hips uncontrollably jerked up, pushing into her hand and he threw his head back, moaning and gasping, closing his eyes in sheer bliss. This was nothing like his own touch; it was so unbelievably  _better_ , this overwhelming feeling of her fingers stroking him, and he opened his eyes to convince himself of the reality that it was really  _her_ giving him so much pleasure. She was looking at him, her wide eyes full of wonder and fascination, and her smile widened when she saw him watching her. She leaned closer to put her mouth against his ear.

"You're so damn  _sexy_ ," she whispered, and it was like her words went straight to his core. His hips jerked up again, her firm hand stroking him with the movement and pleasure shot through him. It was almost too late already, but this time he managed to make his mouth work somewhat.

"Kalli, stop… ah! Wait… no don't… unh… I can't… I'm going to… ngh!"

She wasn't stopping.

She kept her hand on him, her breasts pressed against his chest. She was kissing him again, passionately, urgently, and it was all just too much; too much sensations, too much emotions and too much pent-up frustration. All of those long nights aching for her, all of this unsatisfied yearning overpowered whatever shreds of self-control he still possessed.

It felt as if his whole body exploded from overwhelming ecstasy as his orgasm shuddered through him, long and hard, and it was perfect bliss… for about a minute. Then, when reality slowly began to settle back, shame took over as he realized the whole night was ruined by his own eagerness and his inability to control himself.

He sat up and tried clumsily to clean himself up with the wet towel he retrieved by the bed, unable to look her in the eye.

"Kalli, I'm so sorry, you were just so good and it's just been so long…"

A hand rested on his wrist, stopping his movement, and he reluctantly looked up at her. She was looking at him with a kind of fascinated adoration, wiping her own hands on the towel and… yes, there was lust in her eyes, although for the life of him he couldn't understand why she wasn't mad…

"Don't be ashamed, Alistair. Do you know how it feels, knowing that the mere touch of my hand can bring you such pleasure? How it feels to see you lose control so completely for me?" She took his hand in hers and pressed it against her left breast. He could feel her heart beating wildly under his fingers, "See how you make me feel? Seeing your ecstasy and knowing it all comes from me, that I'm the one making you feel like that… it excites me," she whispered. "It arouses me. Don't you know what that means to me?" She burst out in a surprised, joyful laughter. "This… this is enough. This is perfect."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. With an incredulous chuckle, he raised a hand to tenderly caress her cheek.

"You crazy little thing," he whispered. "Only you could make me feel proud about  _this_."

She laughed heartily, snuggling against him as he lay back on the bed, his arms wrapped around her.

"Plenty of time tomorrow," she whispered. "I love you so much. Now go to sleep."

He did.

* * *

_He woke up to the feeling of her lips against his mouth, of her body almost lying on top of his. This time he flipped her on her back, intent of giving her the same amount of pleasure she had bestowed upon him. For a long time, his lips and hands wandered over her body, eliciting only soft sighs and small nods. He wanted to curse his inexperience, his inexistent knowledge, until he flicked his tongue over her earlobe and she inhaled loudly, arching her back off the bed and pressing her whole body against his._

" _Do… do that again," she whispered. He did, this time keeping the lobe between his lips and suckling. She laughed, a loud, surprised burst of joy. "This… this is amazing!"_

" _How about this?" he asked, running the tip of his tongue along the whole shell of her ear. He felt her shiver under him._

" _Hmm, yes..."_

_He understood then what she had meant when she said that the thought of her hands giving him such pleasure was arousing to her. The sounds she was making were enough to drive him mad with desire._

" _Show me again what you want," he whispered in her ear._

_She did. She guided his hands, lips and tongue over her body, telling him what she liked, how much pressure to apply, how to move his fingers. It was not perfect, maybe there was a lot of awkward fumbling and some inventive cursing as well, but there was also a lot of shared laughter, deep moans and uncontrolled exclamations of pleasure bursting out of her, and he wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Soon she was writhing under him, out of breath, laughing in delight and guiding him inside her._

_There was nothing else: no Blight, no darkspawn, no companions, no dwarves or Dalish or mages, no world to save. There was just the two of them, their bodies moving together towards ecstasy, whispering words of love in the darkness. This was what it felt like to be loved, to be whole. He could never let it go._

_He would never let her go._

_  
_


	8. Fight

"So, I'm going to bed," Kallian said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

He hesitated. Should he lean in, kiss her in front of the others?

In the Deep Roads, it had only been Oghren and Shale, and they both really could  _not_  care less. Here, in camp, things were different. He wasn't sure if she wanted people to know. He wasn't even sure she wanted to pursue this while they were on the road. He was pretty sure that was a conversation they should have had way before coming back to camp, now that he thought of it.

She crossed her arms, biting her lip and looking into the fire. "You're coming with me, right?"

Her hesitant tone made his heart swell with love. She was as unsure as he was.

"The others are going to talk. They do that, you know."

She shrugged, still not looking at him.

"But… but do you want to join me?"

He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips, kissing her palm.

"Nothing would make me happier," he murmured.

Her whole face lit up. She grabbed his hand and dragged him across the camp to her tent.

"The others… you really think they will notice?"

"Absolutely."

"Well then," she said, turning to face the rest of the camp. "All right, listen everyone! I'm going into my tent and Alistair's coming with me, and we're going to have sex because we love each other! Anyone have a problem with that?"

Only silence answered her.

"Good!" she exclaimed, drawing her weapons and shoving them into the ground by the tent's entrance. "Now when my weapons are like this, it means we are not to be disturbed, unless you want me to shove them into your gut instead! Got it?"

"Got it, boss!" Oghren answered with a salacious wink.

She disappeared inside the tent and Alistair followed, trying hard not to laugh. They sat by each other trying to silence their fits of laughter and listened to what the others were saying.

There was a long silence, then he heard Oghren say: "You're a weird bunch, the lot of you."

"Says the drunk surfacer dwarf with braids in his moustache," Zevran's voice answered.

"Ha! Got me there!"

Then nothing.

"See? Nothing to worry about. Now come here," Kallian said, pulling him closer.

"It's only because they're all scared of you."

"They better be."

* * *

_He was going to lose her._

_Flat on his back, eyes wide in horror, he watched helplessly as the high dragon took Kallian in its huge jaws and shook her violently. She was trying to fight it, he could see, but her limbs were flying in every direction, twisting and flailing in impossible ways. The dragon finally spat her out, throwing her away, and she fell on the ground, lying like a broken doll, unmoving._

_He heard a thundering, heart-rending roar, and only when he had to breathe did he realized that he was the one screaming. Without any memory of how it happened, he was on his feet and running, blood boiling in his veins and rage burning in his lungs. He vaguely heard Oghren yell: "By the bloody stone,_ get out of his way _!"_

_He reached the dragon, focused on one absolute certainty: the beast was going to die._

_He would_ not lose her _._

_Afterwards, when Wynne had assured him that she was still alive and safe, although she was very badly injured and needed some rest (she said that last part while sending a meaningful glare his way), he sat by her, utterly spent, cradling her head in his lap. He felt a hand fall heavily on his shoulder._

" _Didn't know you had the making of a berserker in you. Good on you, boy," Oghren said before walking away._

_He didn't know either. He only knew he would do anything._

_He would not lose her._

* * *

The ashes worked. Arl Eamon was alive, awake and well. Alistair had yet to decide if it was a good or a bad thing.

The more the arl talked, the more it seemed like a bad thing, though. Arl Eamon wanted him to be king and that made no sense, no sense at all. Eamon knew how bad a king he would make better than anyone. He had never been in charge of anything and anyone who knew him in the slightest knew what a good thing that was. He couldn't even lead their merry band of mismatched companions.

The leader of said band was standing just in front of him, listening to Arl Eamon, and he realized with growing dread that she would not save him from this. The old arl was a true noble, descendant of a long line of nobles. Nobility was in his blood, in his voice, in his posture and Kallian was reacting to it the way he should have expected her to. The careful kindness in the arl's voice seemed to put her ill at ease. She was fidgeting, shifting her feet restlessly. She had accepted the shield he had bestowed upon her with stuttering awkwardness. Her head hung low as she feebly nodded to everything the arl was saying, mumbling answers like: "Yes, my Lord. Of course, my Lord. If my Lord thinks it is best…"

"What about me?" he suddenly interjected. "Does anyone care what I want?"

Kallian visibly flinched, her back hunching and she threw him a desperate look. Already the arl was turning to him, his eyes reduced to two slits, unleashing his Powers of Nobility against him and using words like "honour" and "responsibility" in that disappointed tone he knew oh so well. Soon enough Alistair was also looking at his boots and stuttering semi-answers like: "I understand…" and "Maybe…"

Everything was decided, it seemed. He knew it was the end, of course. If he was king, she would go away. He was losing her and it was her own fault. How could he fight that?

When he came to her that night, her door was locked. She opened it, though, when he knocked.

There it was, what he had dreaded the most: the low eyes, the deferential bow of the head, the submissive attitude. It made him want to grab her by the shoulders and shake it out of her.

"Look at me," he said in a husky voice.

She hesitated then raised her head to meet his eyes. He realized he had been wrong. She was not being submissive.

She was hiding her tears.

"What do you want, Alistair?" she asked, her voice tired. "You're here to tell me it's over? I already know that, thanks."

"No!"

"Then you're just toying with me. What other choice do you have but to let me go? You think I don't understand that if you're king, we can never be together?" She sighed, retreating inside the room. "Anyway, it's not your fault, really. It's mine. I always do that."

"Oh, really? This is a frequent occurrence for you?"

She let herself fall into a nearby chair, sagging as if all strength had left her body.

"I always let myself believe I can have things that are not mine to have. Oh, Kallian is so  _special_. Kallian wants to learn how to fight. Kallian wants to choose the man she's going to marry. Kallian wants a mabari hound. Kallian wants to love a prince and live happily ever after like in the storybooks." She shook her head, "I should have known better. I should have known my place."

"Your place is with me. I love you," Alistair said in a desperate whisper.

She didn't raise her head. "I love you too."

It should have been all that mattered, but it wasn't. It felt like it wasn't enough.

It felt like goodbye.

* * *

_The road back to Denerim was a nightmare. Arl Eamon wanted to keep him by his side, so he didn't get to travel with the rest of his companions. That meant he couldn't even catch a glance of Kallian, even less attempt to talk to her._

_The arl was driving him crazy, always talking to him about the Theirin bloodline, giving him any advice he could to help him in the Landsmeet, naming all the people Alistair would see there. He forgot everything the minute the arl was done talking, craning his neck to try and see her at the end of the caravan._

_Their first meeting with Loghain was an unexpected, unwelcome surprise. He stood there beside Kallian as Arl Eamon and the general exchanged falsely polite words. She stayed silent and didn't raise her head to look at them until Loghain introduced Rendon Howe as the new Arl of Denerim._

" _So you're the one who butchered my kin?" she asked him with venom in her voice._

" _When the animals turn against their masters, it is sometimes necessary to cull the herd," Arl Howe said in a contemptuous tone, crossing his arms._

" _Oh look, the regent owns a talking ass," she retorted, fuming with rage, before she truly realized to whom she was speaking._

_Her eyes widened in horror and her hand moved, making it halfway to her mouth before she could stop herself. Howe looked at her as a feral grin slowly curved his lips, his eyes raking over her body from head to toe, looking every bit like a predator in front of an interesting, very tempting prey._

_Alistair felt sick._

_Kallian's head bowed again under Howe's lurid stare and she looked at the floor, but he could see her small hands curl into fists._

" _Well, if I'm going to be king, I might as well start acting like a jerk," he thought, taking two steps forward._

_He punched Arl Howe in the face._

" _You give this woman the respect she deserves!" he stated, pointing at Kallian._

_There was a moment of uncertain silence, as if no one could really believe what had just happened. Howe was looking at him with eyebrows raised, a hand covering his bloody nose._

_The warrior woman finally spoke._

" _You're either very bold or very stupid to assault the arl before witnesses."_

_He arched his eyebrows at her as if he couldn't believe she was talking to him in that manner. Maybe there was some part of being king he could get used to, after all. The getting-away-with-stuff part seemed pretty awesome._

" _Enough, Cauthrien," Loghain said, forcing the woman to retreat a few steps. Alistair took his place back and looked sideways at Kallian. Her face was partially hidden because her head was bowed low, but he was pretty sure she was smiling._

" _That felt really good," he whispered without looking directly at her. "I would have preferred to punch Loghain though."_

" _You've been around me for too long. I'm rubbing off on you," she whispered back, shaking her head slightly. For a wonderful second, everything was as it had been before._

_Then she went to help the queen and didn't bring him along._

_When Sten, Zevran and Wynne came back from Arl Howe's estate saying that Kallian had been arrested and brought to Fort Drakon, he felt his heart stop. He spent the next few hours waiting in agonizing worry as others went to save her, pacing the halls and wondering briefly if punching the arrogant queen in the face would bring him some kind of relief too._

_When he got word that she was back and safe, resting in her room, it felt like he was coming back to life. Something had changed in these few hours; a decision had been made without any conscious effort on his part. He had learned the hard way he simply could not live without her._

_So he wouldn't._

* * *

He didn't think he had ever felt this nervous before. He must have stood for more than half an hour outside her door, raising his fist to knock and letting it fall back at his side again and again. He had exactly one chance at this. He prayed fervently that when he would finally gather the courage to knock and she'd open the door, he wouldn't just stick his foot in his mouth and then run away to hide his shame… oh, the interesting, disturbing mental image that particular figure of speech brought up…

_Focus_.

His fist came up again… then went down again. He sighed. He was going to mess it up. He was going to stammer something unintelligible and then make an inappropriate joke and get punched in the face. He didn't see any other way this could end.

His fist came up again… and he watched in some kind of transfixed horror as it knocked on the wooden door.

She was going to open the door, now, right? She would open the door and then he would just  _ruin everything_ …

She opened the door, her eyes going wide in surprise at the sight of him, and he felt his nervousness fade away, replaced by devouring concern… and  _rage_.

The whole left side of her face was blue. The arch of her right eyebrow was caked with dried blood. There were small bruises on her upper arms that looked like fingerprints, as if someone had squeezed her hard enough to leave marks.

He slowly raised a hand to gently touch her cheek but she flinched away, lowering her face, trying to hide her left side as she retreated backwards into the room.

"I thought… I thought it was… What do you want now, Alistair?"

He lowered his hand.

"Kalli…" he whispered, his voice imploring. She squeezed her eyes shut and kept her head bowed.

"It looks worse than it is. It barely hurts anymore." She let out a shaky sigh. "What do you want?" she repeated harshly.

_What did he want?_

His hands curled into fists. He wanted to storm Fort Drakon and slaughter everyone in his path. He wanted to find her jailors and make them suffer. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything would be fine. He wanted to raise his shield and protect her from the world. He wanted…

"I want you," he murmured.

Her head snapped back up in surprise and she looked at him. He took a step towards her and his heart jumped in his chest when she didn't back away, watching him approach with wary eyes.

"You can't…"

"Yes, I can!" he said, taking another step. "I want you… only you! I'm not talking about you coming to live at the castle as my mistress and hiding in some secluded chamber like you're something to be ashamed of. I'm talking just you and me. I don't want to be king."

"How can you not want to be king?" she murmured, shaking her head.

"Oh, that's the easy part. I don't have any effort to make, really. I don't even have to work at it. Not wanting to be king comes to me quite naturally." He took her hands in his and was amazed that she let him.

"I can't be… you must want something…" Her eyes shined with repressed tears as she looked at him, imploring. He cupped her right cheek with his hand.

"I want to be with you. Anywhere. We could live in a house in the alienage, in a tent on the road or in a wooden box on the docks. I don't  _care_. We could keep on travelling, killing darkspawn, hunting for our food – don't look at me like that, I can learn how to hunt! We'd live on bread and hard cheese and grey stew. We could find a house by Lake Calenhad and adopt Blight orphans and you could teach me how to live in a family. We can do anything you want, just… I just want  _you_."

She was openly sobbing by then, laughing through her tears and trying not to choke with limited success. He opened his arms and she fell against his chest with a shaky sigh. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned his cheek against the top of her head.

"I love you," he said, and she laughed against his chest. "I can't live without you. Please don't make me live without you. We  _can_  have it all, Kalli. I just need you to make it happen. Anora's a better ruler than I can ever hope to be anyway. It's better for everyone. I never want to spend another minute apart from you ever again."

"I was so scared…" she whispered, clinging to him. "I was left lying on the ground in this cold cell, beaten up and bloodied, and all I could think about was that I needed to get out of there just so I could see you again… I… I can't do this without you either."

He held her tighter against him, gently rocking her in his arms until her sniffling sobs subsided.

"But what… what are we going to tell Arl Eamon?" she asked when her breathing was more even.

"I say… we tell him nothing. Let's make it a surprise!"

"Oh, you're  _evil_."

"An evil  _genius_ , maybe."

She laughed again, then fell silent. He could feel her warm breath against his chest as her breathing slowed.

"This is not going to be easy, you know. You're asking me –  _me_  – to stand in front of the whole Landsmeet and tell them we're putting Anora on the throne."

"You won't be alone. I'll be with you, always."

She held him tighter.

"I can do it. For you… I can do it. Right?"

"Right. For us."

She let go of him, pushing him away to look in his eyes. There was that little lopsided smile of hers again, like a ray of light after the rain, and his heart jumped in his chest.

"Tell me you want me again…"

"I want you," he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. She swallowed loudly.

"I'm going to go see Wynne for a minute," she said, sliding a finger along the laces of his shirt. "Do you know what you're going to do in the meantime?"

"Why don't you tell me, oh fearless leader?"

"You're going to… take… off… these… clothes," she said, undoing the laces a little more with each word. "Then you're going to lie down in front of this fireplace and wait for me to come back. Absolutely not covering yourself in any way."

"And then?" he asked, his breath hitching.

"Then…" she said, leaning closer to him, her head tilted back, her lips almost brushing his. "… We're going to make up for lost time."

* * *

_He remembers make-up sex. Make-up sex was_ awesome _._

_  
_


	9. Home

When he woke up the next morning, she was already gone. He lingered in bed for a while, savouring the exquisite soreness of his body, nuzzling her pillow where traces of her scent could still be found. His growling stomach soon forced him to get up and wander the room in search of his scattered clothes.

She burst into the room just as he finished dressing. With a delighted laugh, she threw herself in his arms and kissed him passionately.

"Do you know what I did this morning?" she asked, smiling widely and almost bouncing with glee. Her excitement was contagious and Alistair found himself smiling back and following her bouncing movements without even knowing why.

"No, what?"

"I went to the tavern!"

Hm. Maybe he heard it wrong.

"Ah… really?"

"Yes!" she said, her excitement not abating one bit. "Do you know what I did there?"

"Huh… beat up some mercenaries? Have a drink for breakfast? Oh, did you punch someone in the face again? Oooh, was it Ignacio? Aw, don't tell me I missed it!"

"No, no and no! I talked to the nobles!"

Now he was truly at a lost.

"Ah… yay?"

"Damn straight, yay!" she said. "I talked to them and they talked to me as if I was a real person!"

His eyes narrowed.

"You are a real person."

"Oh, you know what I mean! As if  _they_  thought I was someone important, as if I wasn't an elf! They  _listened_  to me! Apparently I saved a lot of important people in Howe's dungeons and most of the nobles I talked to agreed to speak out against Loghain at the Landsmeet! They even spoke to me with respect!"

Conflicting emotions ran through him. He felt happy because she was, sorry that she thought being polite to her was such a big deal, hopeful for the promise against Loghain. The positive emotions finally won and he smiled at her again.

"So…"

"So I talked to Arl Eamon and he counted the votes. He said that with Anora's support we might be able to win this, Alistair!"

"Really?"

"There's more! I have something for you! Close your eyes," she said, walking towards the door. "No peeking!" she shouted from the hallway and he closed his eyes again hastily. How did she _know_?

"Extend your hands."

She put something heavy in his hands, something vaguely round and metallic.

"You got me a new shield?"

"Ah, no," she said, laughing. "I got you an old one. Open your eyes."

He did, looking down at the object in his hands. He suddenly felt almost dizzy, his knees buckling under him and he barely managed to stay upright as tears stung his eyes.

Duncan's shield. She found  _Duncan's shield_.

He staggered backwards, luckily falling in a nearby chair. His hands ran lovingly over the soaring griffon painted on the rugged surface. He had Duncan's sword, now, but a sword was… impersonal, just a weapon. He remembered when Duncan specially commissioned the artisan for this particular shield, telling him what size he wanted it, how the griffin should be painted. This shield was really special to him.

"You said you didn't have anything of his, so I thought… I thought maybe you'd like this. I found it at the Warden's warehouse. Are you… is it… do you want to…" She took a deep breath, kneeling in front of him and putting her hands on his knees. "Was it okay? Did I show disrespect or something? Are you mad at me? You look… not happy."

"I can't believe you remembered," he whispered, unable to look away from the shield. "This… this is perfect. Thank you." He smiled down at her and she smiled back, clearly relieved.

She took his hands in hers. Her excitement was still visible, but there was now a hint of something else in her eyes. Apprehension? Fear? "There's something else… The alienage gates are open," she said at length, biting her lower lip.

His heart sank as he forced the smile to stay on his lips. Maker, what were they going to find there?

"What are we still doing here, then? Let me put on my armour and we're going in straight away!"

She nodded, letting go of his hands.

"I'll wait for you outside."

He went into his room to quickly put on his armour, ignoring Eamon's suspicious look, and exited through the kitchen to grab something quick to eat on the way. The walk to the alienage was mostly silent, Kallian clutching at his hand as if she was hanging on to her lifeline. It didn't take long before they started to hear shouting.

"Something's going on," Alistair said. "Do you hear this?"

"It's… it's Shianni. It's Shianni!"

"She's yelling at people."

"Shianni is always yelling at people. It's really her!"

She started running, her pace slowing as she finally looked upon the gathering. Something was wrong.

"What's going on?" she asked, making all heads turned in her direction. The red-haired girl who was probably Shianni shrieked, jumping in her arms.

"Cousin! It's really you!"

"I'm happy to see you too, Shianni," Kallian said, her voice still tense, hugging her cousin closely. "I don't see my father anywhere. Where is he?"

Shianni's smile faltered.

"Mm… maybe we should go somewhere we can sit before I tell you this…"

* * *

_It was like going back in time. The more Shianni was talking, the more he could see all colour and life leave his lover's face. He hadn't seen this expression on her for a long time, but he recognized it immediately. It was the same expression she bore at Ostagar when they were storming the tower._

_He knew exactly what she must have been thinking._

_She marched up to the healers, asking them to let her pass. When they refused, she fixed her dead eyes on them, unsheathing her weapons._

" _Let me pass or I kill you all," she said, her voice flat. It broke his heart to hear it. The healers refused again and she launched her attack._

_Well, she had warned them._

_Through the hospice, the apartments and the warehouse they ran, hacking and slashing their way through guards and mages. No sooner was the last enemy's body touching the ground that Kallian was already in the next room, charging new ones. There was an urgency in her steps, a frenzy in her attacks that had never been there before. It reminded him that it wasn't the same as before, in the tower. She wasn't trapped in some nightmarish memory. This time, the nightmare was rooted in reality. Once again, she was rushing to free someone she loved who was promised to a horrible fate, and once again she was probably too late._

_He felt his heart sink when he saw her lips moving silently as she fought, knowing what she was saying under her breath. All of her efforts, all of her hard work and relentless training seemed to have been for nothing. She looked at him sometimes with crazed eyes, not even recognizing him, barely registering him as an ally before pressing on._

_When they got to the last room and that Tevinter mage tried to make a deal with her, her whole face twisted with rage._

" _He tried to negotiate with me," she had said about the man who had raped her cousin._

_With a raucous, enraged cry, she charged the mage, swinging her weapons in a blurred frenzy. It was all Alistair and Zevran could do to keep the other guards off her back, while Wynne was throwing healing spell after healing spell her way._

_Soon the mage was on his knees in front of her, trying to beg for his life once more. The maleficar actually proposed to kill all of the imprisoned elves to give her more strength through blood magic. Alistair felt part of her rage wash over him as she spat out vengeful, hateful words, his own anger boiling up as he raised his sword and swiftly cut off the mage's head._

_She whirled on him, her eyes still crazed, her chest heaving, clutching at her weapons, and for a scary second he thought she was going to attack him. He had never seen her so deeply lost to the rage and bloodlust before. His gauntlets hit the floor and he instinctively reached out to her, pleading._

" _Kalli… come on, come back…" he said, his voice low, carefully framing her face between his palms._

_The anger in her eyes took on a desperate edge and she actually bared her teeth to snarl at him. Back in the days, talking to her got her out of her bloodlust for a while, but more drastic measures now seemed called for. Luckily, he had some at his disposition._

_Without thinking, he crushed her lips against his, kissing her passionately. After a short hesitation on her part, he heard both her weapons clash on the ground and her hands were in his hair as she kissed him back with a vengeance, pushing her tongue into his mouth. She clung to him, one hand twisted in his hair as the other roamed up and down his back, and he cursed the armour that prevented him from feeling her touch. Her lips devoured his, her mouth gasping against his mouth as if he was the air she breathed. His hands gripped her, frantically running over her body, craving her warmth, searching for the soft feeling of bare skin. His whole body felt like it was on fire, his blood rushing in his ears as his mouth attacked hers relentlessly._

_When she pulled back to look at him, her eyes blessedly normal, her lips red and swollen and her hair all tousled, it was the most perfect, beautiful thing he had ever seen._

" _Thank you," she whispered, and all he could do was nod, still breathing hard._

" _Kallian!" Zevran called out from beside the cages he was busy unlocking._

_Kallian turned to look at him and her eyes widened._

" _Father!" she yelled, throwing herself into the arms of an older man just getting out of one of the cages._

_Father and daughter talked privately, their heads close together, and then Kallian turned to him and beckoned him closer._

" _Father, I want you to meet someone…"_

_Kallian's father turned a suspicious, almost hostile gaze on him, and Alistair realized with a pang that the man had been there_ the whole time _. He silently thanked the Maker for full-on heavy plate armours._

" _It's such a pleasure to meet you, sir," he stammered, awkwardly extending his hand. The older elf arched his eyebrows in surprise, eyeing his hand with some wariness before taking it in his._

_Kallian was weeping, clutching at his other hand._

" _I made it, Alistair. I wasn't too late. I wasn't too late!"_

* * *

Shianni was ecstatic.

"Cousin, you're amazing! We should celebrate! You're staying for dinner, right? I'll weasel a bottle from Alarith and we'll catch up!"

Kallian smiled tiredly, rubbing a hand over her face.

"I need to go wash up, but I'll be back." She hesitated before asking in a small voice: "Can I bring a guest?"

"Oh, now that's interesting!" Shianni said, eyeing Zevran who threw her a seductive smile. "Something you want to tell me?"

"Yes, actually, although you're looking at the wrong eye-candy… Shianni, you're drooling a little…"

"What? Am not!"

"This is Alistair," Kallian said softly, taking his arm. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Hi… hum… pleasure to meet you. You know, officially because… we've met… before… over there. Hum. Yes, it's a pleasure."

Yup… He still got it. Very smooth…

Shianni looked at him warily, crossing her arms.

"He's a shem," she finally said, her voice scornful. "A weird one at that."

Ah, yes. A popular first impression among the young ladies from Denerim's alienage...

"He's more than just a  _shem_ , Shianni. He's my… he's my…" She bit her lower lip, searching for an appropriate word. She looked up at him and her expression softened visibly.

"He's my everything," she said softly.

He felt his heart melt and swallowed back the lump that was forming in his throat. What could he say to that?

"And we'll bring the wine," Kallian added. "I bet Arl Eamon has a cellar in his estate somewhere… My house, at sunset?"

"I'll be there," Shianni said. "I'll go tell your father you just invited people over for supper."

She walked away with a wink and a small smile, leaving Kallian's eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

"Wow, for a second it was like I still lived here…"

"How are you feeling?" Alistair asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"I feel… relieved. Free." She exhaled deeply.

"Come on," Alistair said gently, taking her arm under his. "Let's go take a bath and then steal the arl's wine."

Kallian perked up at that, throwing him a sly little smile that made his heart jump, filling him with hope that the bathing part of the plan was going to be really interesting…

* * *

_That night was one of the best nights of his life. Kallian's family accepted him with cautious wariness at first, but they warmed up to him as the night went by and the wine flowed. He was regaled with some very nice cooking as well as some juicy and embarrassing tales of Kallian's childhood. More than once he found himself bent over in laughter, wiping tears from his eyes as Kallian threatened the storyteller with horrible promises of bodily harm that only made them all laugh harder._

_After one glass of wine too many, he joined in and told some embarrassing moments of Kallian's life since they became travelling companions. His audience was hanging on his words, laughing and clapping, and all was going well until he glanced at Kallian and saw the little smirk on her lips. He knew then he was in big trouble._

" _Did I tell you guys about that time when Alistair…"_

_That was the beginning of another series of stories that had everyone crying with laughter, but it was Alistair's turn to hide his face in his hands in shame. Supper went by too quickly as Alistair revelled in the overwhelming, warm feeling of being among family, even if it was not his own… yet._

_After all the food had disappeared from the table, Kallian and her cousins retreated in the kitchen with the dirty dishes, the two girls whispering gossip as Soris rolled his eyes behind them. Alistair was left alone at the table with Cyrion, who was eyeing him attentively, leaning back in his chair._

" _You're a good man, Alistair," he finally conceded. "A nice man. You make her happier than I have ever seen her."_

_Alistair took a deep breath, standing up to take another seat closer to the older man._

" _I can't tell you how glad I am to hear you say that, sir. You see, I have something important I need to ask of you…"_

_  
_


	10. Strength

He was walking to her room when he heard voices coming from the end of the hallway. One of the voices he recognized as Kallian's. The other he was less sure of, but it sounded like the queen. Curious, he took a couple more steps towards the door, listening. The queen was talking about Loghain, saying how he had been a good father and a great hero. There was a short silence after the queen was done talking, then Kallian spoke, her voice soft, respectful.

"I understand, Your Majesty. All fathers are heroes in the eyes of their children, but yours was a true one. Would you… permit me to speak of my own father?"

Silence followed, during which Alistair assumed the queen had nodded, because Kallian continued.

"When my mother died, my father was left alone with a daughter in his care. Times were tough, and he took whatever disgusting job he could find, often working double shifts for half the salary. Each night, when he got home, exhausted and sore all over, his first stop was always my room. I was waiting for him to come by, snuggled under the covers, pretending to sleep. He would always tell me a story."

Alistair heard the soft tenderness in her voice as she spoke of her father and his heart swelled with emotion. He couldn't bring himself to enter the room and interrupt, and he felt bad that he was spying on them but he couldn't help wanting to hear the rest.

"I would tell him that I was too old for bedtime stories but in truth I loved them. He told me stories about the Dalish and the dwarves, about handsome, charming princes and beautiful, kind princesses with long blonde hair and soft blue eyes. He told me stories about heroes of legends, nobles with hearts of gold and arms of steel that won battles and saved nations."

She laughed, then, a bitter, humourless chuckle.

"It doesn't take long for a young female elf living in the alienage to learn the true face of nobility, Your Majesty. We see clearly the monsters under the crowns, the beautiful hair and clothes. I had one true hero. When I had to leave him, my heart broke to pieces. I found him again, when the alienage gates reopened. He was in a cage, his hands and feet clasped in chains. He looked like he hadn't eaten in days."

Her voice broke and she breathed with difficulty.

"They were going to send him away, to Tevinter. A free citizen of Denerim and he was sold into slavery. My own  _father_ … Do you want to know, Your Majesty?" she asked, spitting out the title as if it was an insult. "Do you want to know who authorized this atrocity?"

Alistair was pretty sure he heard the soft voice of the queen murmured: "No…" then the sound of shuffling papers.

"Teyrn Loghain.  _Your_  father."

He heard a soft gasp.

"So you do what you need to do, Your Majesty. You can be assured that I will as well. Justice must be served, don't you agree?"

Kallian bumped into him in her rush to get out of the room. He caught her in his arms and pressed her lips to his in a passionate kiss.

"I'm so proud of you, love," he whispered in her ear.

"That… that was the bloody Queen of Ferelden, Alistair… Andraste's ass, I'm shaking like a leaf…"

"But you did it. You told her."

"Did you hear the whole thing?"

"Almost, I was looking for you." He let her go and took a step back. "Eamon wants to see you. The Landsmeet is about to begin."

She straightened her shoulders, looking back at him almost defiantly. Her expression hardened, her eyes became colder, determined.

"I'm ready."

* * *

_She was magnificent._

_He knew her so well. He could see in the set of her shoulders, in the tense lines around her mouth, how much it was costing her to just stand there under the scrutiny of the noble assembly. Her hands kept curling into fists, painfully uncurling before closing again, and he could tell it was all she could do to keep the rage from her voice as Loghain threw false accusations in her face. He was bursting with pride when she answered each one with her own accusations. Alistair tried not to laugh when Zevran caught the regent's eyes, throwing him a mocked salute and Loghain clenched his teeth in silent frustration. It was worth having kept the assassin around so long just for that glorious moment._

_When Loghain accused her of kidnapping his daughter and the queen made her entrance, siding with them against her own father, he could see Kallian's eyes closed in relief. The vote was almost unanimous, only one noble siding with Loghain. Then the rules for the duel were set, and Kallian named him as her champion._

_Loghain snorted, saying something about testing the future king. He didn't correct him. Loghain was going to die believing he had lost everything if he had anything to say about it. He was wearing Cailan's armour and holding Duncan's sword and shield. Justice could only be done. He never even thought he could lose._

_When his sword came slicing down, decapitating the teyrn, he did not feel the relief and satisfaction he thought he would. He stood there, his sword dripping with blood, feeling utterly spent and oddly… empty. She came to his rescue again, discreetly putting a hand on his shoulder, making him step back and bringing his focus on the discussion._

_Then she made Anora queen, and relief finally washed over him. It was all over._

* * *

"Did you see it? I opened the doors and people were all gasping and backing away. It was like an honour guard just for me! I felt like I was seven feet tall! Did you see?"

Eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed with excitement, Kallian was gesturing emphatically as she retold the events of the Landsmeet for what must have been at least the tenth time that day. She was walking backwards on the dusty road, facing him as they made their way to Redcliffe castle.

"Loghain was all, 'Orlais this!' and 'Wardens that!' and I was like, 'Oh yeah? Take that!' Did you see me?"

"I was there, love," Alistair reminded her patiently, unable to keep from smiling at her enthusiasm. "Although I have to admit I do not remember you gesticulating at him so."

The others had all reached the limits of their patience days ago and were now walking a short distance behind them, enjoying the small pleasures of discussing anything other than the Landsmeet. Not him. He could not tire of seeing her smile.

"Then I told him 'You sold the elves into slavery!' and people were gasping and mumbling and yelling 'What?' because everyone could see how terrible that was, right? And then, the nobles, they all agreed with me!" She burst out laughing and he laughed with her, "Did you hear them?"

He did, very well. He remembered that overwhelming sense of pride and joy when all of the assembled nobles sided one by one with the Wardens. Well, except for that one ugly bald guy with the squealing voice, but then again, who would have wanted  _that_  guy on their team, really?

"Then Arl Eamon asked, 'Who do you think should lead the country?' and I was all nonchalant and said, 'Oh, I think Anora should be queen,' and bam! Anora was queen! I put a queen on Ferelden's throne! Did you see?"

He wasn't about to admit that he didn't, in fact, see that. His eyes had been closed in sheer relief. What he did see seconds later though was Arl Eamon's face as Anora took the leading of the Landsmeet from him. Seeing his expression had been both utterly satisfying and downright scary. It held promises of numerous future, very unpleasant conversations, but right then, looking at Kallian's overjoyed face, Alistair found he didn't care. Let Eamon be angry.

"We did it, Alistair! That had to be the hardest thing ever and we did it and we even made it look easy! Nothing can stand in our way!" She was exulting.

"Well, there's still that little Blight thing with that small Archdemon leading it…"

She scoffed.

"Bah, killing stuff we're actually good at! Politics… bleh…" She continued walking backwards a couple of steps, her expression thoughtful for a while.

"When the Archdemon is dead, it's just you and me, Alistair. Can you picture it: you and me, together, happily ever after? The scrawny little elf from the alienage and her handsome prince are getting their happy ending. We could…"

They both stopped walking at the same time, looking at each other as the goofy smiles faded from their faces.

"Speaking of killing stuff…" Alistair murmured as Kallian yelled: "Darkspawn!"

* * *

_They charged through the village and up the hill to the castle, eradicating darkspawn on the way. Alistair had to admit, not without a certain dose of smug pride, that they really were good at killing things, especially evil, tainted things, which boded well for the obligatory Archdemon slaying._

_Inside the castle, the situation seemed no less dire, although maybe less immediate. Eamon was still glaring daggers at them but he found out he could quite easily ignore him, and it looked in fact like Kallian was not too bothered by it either._

_Something was definitely different. They had both decided to go after their own desires and follow their hearts and somehow the world had not exploded around them. They had found out at the Landsmeet that Kallian's voice actually carried more weight than Eamon's in these difficult times, and the fact that Eamon didn't speak to them again about it just confirmed that the arl knew it too._

_Something was different with Kallian too. She wasn't bowing anymore. Under the desperate scrutiny of the men looking at her for guidance she stood tall, her back straight and her chin up. Even Eamon lowered his eyes when her angry gaze fell on him at the news that Denerim was the real target of the darkspawn horde._

_He was witnessing the making of a true hero and it made his heart burst with pride when she turned to him and her eyes widened for a second in excited joy at seeing all those powerful nobles hanging on her word. He felt privileged to be the one she chose, the one she loved. She was still that crazy little thing from Ostagar, and yet she had become so much more. He smiled softly to himself, knowing that tonight, when everyone would retire to get some sleep before the march on Denerim, he would be the one to hold her in his arms._

* * *

He was nervously turning the little wooden box over and over again in his hands. Yet again, he had something really important he needed to say to her, and yet again the timing could not have been more screwed up. That hadn't stopped him before, though… maybe that was their  _thing_.

He extended his hand, handing the little box to an invisible Kallian in front of him.

"So, how about I make an honest girl… woman… elf… person out of y… no."

He breathed deeply.

"So, all of this time we've spent together… you know, the tragedy, the brushes with death, the constant battles with the whole Blight looming over us… huh… I feel like I've heard this before…"

He breathed again.

"Here. A ring. It's very shiny! Do you want it? Although I should tell you, the ring comes with… well, me."

That time, the breath sounded more like a sigh. He cleared his throat.

"Kallian Tabris, I love you. I can't live without you… You already know I would do anything for you. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together. I want nothing to stand in the way of our love, nothing that could separate us. So, would you maybe do me the honour of… um, maybe I should kneel here…"

He was about to get on one knee when he saw her coming around the corner. He hastily straightened up, hiding the little box inside his armour. She walked up to him, smiling.

"There you are!" he told her with a smile, taking her hand. "Let's go see what Riordan has to say."

* * *

He tried to remove his armour but found out that his hands were shaking too much to undo the buckles so he left it on, deciding to wait until she came back to help him. He just stood there by his bed, arms hanging by his sides, his brain having a very distressing discussion with itself.

One of them was going to die.

No, not necessarily. Riordan insisted on being the one to make the sacrifice.

But what if Riordan couldn't make it?

Riordan was a great Grey Warden: experienced.

Old.

_Experienced_! He knew Duncan. He knew what to do.

He wasn't even outside the castle to help the guards battle the handful of darkspawn that was attacking Redcliffe. Maybe his injuries were still hurting too much.

Riordan would kill the Archdemon.

But if he didn't…

Then… then Alistair would have to do it… and he would die.

_Or she would_.

Something was pressing uncomfortably on his heart and he plunged his hand under his breastplate to dislodge the distracting object.

A little wooden box in his hand… He closed his fist around it. He could not cry, not now. She was coming.

He turned his back on the door when he heard the knob turn, putting the box on the bedside table and taking a minute to get a hold of himself.

"I see you can't sleep either," he said, his back still to her, forcing his voice to take on a cheerful tone. He heard the door click shut, but she didn't answer him. He finally turned to face her and saw that she was pale as a ghost.

"I love you," she breathed softly. "You know that, right?"

"Could you make it sound more ominous?" Maker, it had never been that hard to smile. "What's going on?"

She walked up to him, slowly, her eyes boring into his, and all his fake levity evaporated. Something was wrong, even more wrong that he realized.

"Morrigan knows of a way that a Grey Warden can kill an Archdemon without dying and still prevent the beast from coming back. It's… a ritual. Old blood magic. She needs…"

"She needs what?" Alistair asked in a whisper, not daring to hope…

"She needs to have sex with you, to conceive a child."

He stared at her with eyes wide. Holy Maker, she was even worse at fake levity that he was.

"Cute," he tried. "That's payback, right, for all the jokes?"

She wasn't smiling at all, but it had to be a joke, right, because if it wasn't then she was really asking him to…

He fell to sitting on the bed, his knees giving out from under him.

"You're not actually asking me to…"

"No…" she said softly. "No!" she repeated, and her voice grew louder. "I… I can't! You're right, I'm sorry, I can't ask you to do this! I can't tell you to go in there and let her…  _touch_  you and use you like you're some kind of…  _thing_ , a mere means to an end… to be touched by her even… even if you despise her, to have her force her tongue in your mouth, her hand on your…" she stopped and bit her lip, tears brimming in her eyes, and he felt his heart sink when he realized what she was saying.

"You… you told me it wasn't that bad," he whispered. She looked up at him as her tears started falling silently, and his ears rang as loud as if she had actually said the words.

_She had lied_.

"I'm sorry. I'll go tell her," she breathed, walking backwards to the door and slipping out.

He sat there stunned for a while, his brain at war with itself on a completely different subject than before.

His decision reached, he was on his feet and out the door… where he got rammed into by a  _wolf_ , of all things, smack in the middle of a hallway in Redcliffe castle, hard enough to send him to the floor. In a second he was lying on his back with an armful of dishevelled and very pissed Morrigan.

"Out of my way, you fool!"

" _Shut up."_

He got on his feet and helped her up, then pointed to his bedchamber.

"Get in there… and keep shutting up."

* * *

_Denerim reeked._

_The city was still standing, but barely. Raging fires were burning everywhere and shouts of terror and pain could be heard over the noise of crackling flames and collapsing buildings. Above them, the gigantic, purple form of the Archdemon circled relentlessly, its shadow gliding ominously across the empty streets._

_The smell was the worst part of it, though. A nauseating mix of burned hair, rotting flesh and darkspawn blood floated everywhere, along with a black, thick smoke._

_They fought their way through impossible horrors, from the market to the alienage, killing ogres and generals and whatever monster the Archdemon cared to throw at them. They both raised their heads at the Archdemon's deafening roar, just in time to see Riordan plunge to his death, the wounded beast crashing on top of Fort Drakon. A single look was exchanged between them, heavy with meaning._

_She knew, of course, that he had participated in the ritual. The second thing he did after throwing the witch out of his room was run to her and tell her everything. The first thing was take a very hot bath, scrubbing his skin until he saw blood._

_Their lives now depended on whether or not Morrigan had really been truthful with them… and whether or not Flemeth had been truthful with Morrigan._

_That is, unless the Archdemon just stomped on them or something._

* * *

"Stop!" he yelled, catching her by the arm before she could start running.

"What?"

"I'm not letting you do this! Let me make the final blow!"

"In your freaking dreams you will!" she yelled back over the roar of battle, wiping the blood from her face.

"Kallian please! I can't bear the thought of seeing you dead!"

"What about me? You think it's easier the other way around?" She tried to shake her arm free but his grip was rock solid.

"Kallian Tabris, I love you! I can't live without you! You already know I would do anything for you!"

Her gaze locked onto his. Around them, the battle was raging, but their dwarven allies were keeping the darkspawn at bay. The Archdemon was struggling to get back up, its short arms clawing at the ground.

"So there's no changing your mind about this?" she yelled, her expression strangely calm.

"No!"

She sighed. "Very well, then."

She punched him, square in the jaw, so hard he saw stars.

That crazy little thing… He never could see her coming.

By the time he could see straight again, she was already rushing to the Archdemon, sliding on one knee to slice its throat open. She got back on her feet, both hands clamped on her sword hilt, and she shoved the blade into the Archdemon's head. The world exploded into light and he was knocked on his back, stunned.

" _She's flying,"_  he thought confusedly as the strength of the explosion blew her away, letting her land a few feet from him, her body torn and limp - unmoving.

* * *

-oOo-

* * *

She doesn't wake up. He's shaking her, calling her name, but she doesn't wake up. All around them, the white light continues to shine, forming a blinding pillar that reaches to the sky. Confusedly, above the noise of battle, he hears the horns, trumpets and drums of war, calling for the troops to regroup and pursue the fleeing darkspawn.

So here they are at last, the thundering music, the shining white light. Here they are, the signs he has been waiting for, announcing his love for her to the world. They're here now, now that she is taken from him, now that she is dying.

They say your whole life flashes before your eyes when you die. How is it, then, that as she lay dying, it is him that is remembering all of the little moments that composed their life together?

"You promised me," he whispers in her ear, holding her tight against his chest. "You promised me a happy ending. You promised me ever after."

"Damn… straight…"

His eyes opened, searching her face frantically. Did she just talk?

"Alistair… love…" Her hand finds his face, her fingers caress his cheek, moving upward.

She's talking.  _She's talking!_

"Yes, my dear?" he asks, feelings of joy and relief washing over him. Her fingers find his eyes then move upward still.

"Are you… a healer?"

"No, no, of course not, my love," he says, surprised. Did she hit her head too hard?

She  _smacks him on the forehead._

"Then go… get… Wynne… you… stup…"

Her hand slides down as she falls unconscious again.

"Wynne!" He yells at the top of his lungs in a powerful, exulting roar. "She's alive!"

* * *

-oOo-

* * *

**_  
_**

_  
_


	11. Epilogue

"We did it! I'm impressed, aren't you?"

"Of course I am! But then again, I  _am_  a confirmed formidable woman, so it was to be expected, right? Did you see that the queen invited my father here today? I didn't even know! She's… she's okay, I guess. You know, for a noble…"

"And you went ahead and made Shianni Bann of the Denerim Alienage. Between the two of them, I foresee a lot of interesting Landsmeets on the horizon."

"Or they'll become the best of friends, you never know!"

"Anyway, I can't wait until all of this official business is over. I can't wait to be alone with you."

"Hmm, this sounds interesting. I have to go meet my adoring public right now, but I'll meet you upstairs later? We have a lot of… celebrating to do, not mentioning all of the time we lost while I was bedridden because of my injuries… we really need to  _make up_  for all that lost time, don't you agree?"

"Just go, you sly little minx, or I'll scoop you in my arms and run away to have my way with you right now!"

"Is that a promise?"

* * *

She burst into his room and ran straight to the double doors leading to the balcony.

"Alistair, come, you have to see this!"

She opened the doors wide and stepped out onto the balcony. He could hear the deafening roar of the crowd still massed in the courtyard. Kallian waved emphatically and heads began turning in their direction, the word spreading until everyone was looking their way.

"Look at that!" she said excitedly, raising her arms up in an exaggerated salute. The crowd roared its approval, cheering loudly.

"Look, look!"

She lowered her arms and the crowd's cheers lessened. Then she raised them again and the roars of happiness grew even louder than before.

"I'm the Hero of Ferelden!" she yelled, and the crowd went wild, applauding and cheering.

She took his hand in hers and dragged him by her side, raising his arm with hers.

"I love this man!" she yelled again, turning him to face her and kissing him passionately, eliciting even louder cheers from the crowd and leaving him out of breath, his face flushed and his head spinning.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked, laughing breathlessly.

"This! Do you know what this is, Alistair?" she asked, revelling in the crowd's cheers. "That's power! Freedom! No one can stop us and no one can touch us! Not even the nobles are above us now! We can do anything we want!"

"And what is it you want to do, my love?" he asked, lightly caressing her cheek with his fingertips. She leaned into his touch, smiling.

"I… I want to stay here for a while, in the castle. Anora has offered us hospitality and she's going to teach me the basics about ruling an arling before sending me to Amaranthine. I'm going to be an arlessa, Alistair! Well, sort of… Warden-Commander Kallian Tabris, Arlessa of Amaranthine! That does have a nice ring to it, don't you agree? I'm going to order nobles around!" She laughed.

"Then I'll go with you. Although I would like to go to Highever first, do something in Duncan's honour… that is, if you don't mind…"

"No… no, of course not! We'll do that first. I mean, who's going to say no to us now?"

* * *

"No."

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I heard you right."

Kallian was standing with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at the leader of the Wardens recently arrived from Orlais. The Senior Warden was looking down at her with an air of barely concealed contempt.

"I said no, you cannot go run some errand in Highever. You are to join us now and come to Amaranthine to help the Wardens take possession of the arling."

"I'm sorry, how did you get the impression you were in charge?"

The woman sighed.

"Warden Tabris, you have been named Warden-Commander of Ferelden by default. You have not even been a Warden for two full years. Surely you can see the wisdom in naming someone who has had a little more… experience in charge of the Wardens now that more of us are here."

"Oh, I see the wisdom in that all right," Kallian retorted. "What qualifies you as more experienced, exactly?"

"Well…" the woman said, looking slightly taken aback. "I've been a Warden for almost ten years now, I already am Senior Warden…"

"So you're old," Kallian interrupted. The woman's eyes flared with anger.

"I lead an expedition into the Deep Roads..."

"I lead three expeditions into the Deep Roads. I went further than anyone before me except a couple of dwarves who are now dead. I killed a broodmother."

"I killed dozens of darkspawn!" the woman yelled, quickly losing her calm.

"I killed four hundred sixty seven. Yes, I counted. Oh, and one Archdemon. How many of those have you killed?"

"Yes, and how did you survive that, exactly?" The woman's tone was harsh, and accusatory.

"I don't know!" Kallian retorted, her temper finally showing. "Maybe the Maker wanted me to stay alive so I can keep arguing with stupid, old Orlesian Wardens!"

The woman stepped back, inhaling sharply. Then, an amused, surprised grin played on her lips as she looked past Kallian at Alistair.

"She's a little bit crazy, yes?"

"You have no idea," he answered, nodding. "Just be glad she hasn't punched you yet."

"Well, you've got attitude, I can see that. I think I like you." She extended a hand. "Leonie Caron, senior Warden. I look forward to serving under you, Warden-Commander. Take your time in Highever. You deserve some fun, it seems."

The Orlesian Warden winked at her before turning to leave.

"That was risky, Kallian," Alistair said, watching the woman walk away. Kallian didn't turn to him, her eyes still on the Orlesian.

"What can she do to us, Alistair? We're Ferelden's Grey Warden heroes. They can't demote us, and they can't throw us out. The Grey Wardens' standing in Ferelden is much too fragile. They need us here, and they know it. You have no idea of the kind of power in our hands right now, do you? I do. I've been on the receiving end of that power all my life. I have to say, it feels good to be the one wielding it for a change."

"Well, aren't you tiny and in charge?" he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "I like it. It does all kind of wonderful things to me to see you so… decisive." He bit at her earlobe and smiled as her breath caught.

"You're a very naughty man, love…"

"Are you going to punish me, Warden-Commander?" he whispered, breathing the title in her ear like it was the sweetest of compliments. He trailed his tongue along the edge of her pointed ear, pleased to feel her shiver in his arms.

"You bet your sexy ass I will…" she whispered, melting into him. "Let's begin by making you carry me all the way back to my room in your arms, because I think my knees are not working very well…"

* * *

They were back on the road and he had never felt such freedom in his whole life. It was just the two of them, the open road and blue skies, one fire and one tent. Even the dog had stayed in Denerim, where the kennel master wanted him to sire some mabari puppies. A lot of the crown's mabari dogs had died in the war.

She was cooking something over the fire, having very firmly refused his offer for help. His cooking wasn't that bad, but somehow not letting him cook had become this running gag for so long that it was like second nature not to allow him near the cooking fire. Fine, then, if it meant that he could sit idly by and watch her as she stirred the contents of the pot, he wasn't about to complain.

"You know what I just realized?" she said, watching the bubbling pot closely, "We're completely alone. Not one person around to bug us or ask us for anything… No one to hear us." She threw him a sly look and a lopsided smile, "We can be… as loud as we want."

"Oh really?" he said, sitting up eagerly. "Do you plan on some screaming happening tonight?"

"Well… there's that thing we haven't tried yet that apparently drives men insane with pleasure but… you need to take a bath first." She wrinkled her nose. "You've been stewing in that armour all day long and I'm not putting my mouth down  _there_  if you don't wash it first."

The wooden branch he was using as a fire poker fell to the ground, utterly forgotten, as he stared at her with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open.

_Put her mouth… down… there…_

It took some time before the meaning of the words actually made its way through his brain. When it did, he was suddenly on his feet, his hands clawing at buckles, pieces of armour falling around him at a rate he would never have thought himself capable of. Then he was sprinting to the small river.

He came back, cursing, to pick up his bar of soap and was off again in a blur.

He came back again, cursing louder, and grabbed his towel before finally heading to the quickest bath in history.

Kallian was still bent over the cooking pot when he came back to camp, the spoon still halfway to her gaping mouth, watching him running around in nothing but a towel, her gaze surprised and not just a little amused.

"Time for bed!" he exclaimed.

"But… we haven't even eaten yet."

"Bah, who needs food?"

"I still need to go wash myself…"

"Nah, you're fine! You smell very nice."

She sighed exaggeratedly. "Fine, then," she said with a little satisfied smile as Alistair threw himself inside the tent.

" _Men…_ " he thought he heard her murmur amusedly before getting in.

* * *

"This is a nice place," Alistair said, looking around.

Kallian stretched against him, nuzzling his neck sleepily. "You're kidding, right?"

They had arrived in Highever the previous night. The teyrn had welcomed them to his lands, approving of their project after some discussion on the cost of the operation. He had pointed out some places he believed could be appropriate and had promised to look into hiring some workers.

They had explored Highever's coast for the better part of the morning. They had stopped moments before in a small clearing overlooking the sea for a picnic. Somehow, in a matter of minutes, the picnic had become a naked picnic, then a passionate lovemaking session. Alistair had  _absolutely_  no idea how all of it happened and he was  _certainly_  not about to admit he had any part to play in that chain of events. No… not at all.

"You want to build Duncan's monument here? How are you going to be able to meditate without thinking about everything we just did?"

"Maybe I won't… but then again, it doesn't need to be a bad thing, right? It's like… a celebration of life… a homage, really. Duncan would approve."

"That is disturbing on so many levels…"

"Think about it. We could be starting a tradition here. Each year we would have to come back here and… pay our respects…"

His hands roamed over her body, enjoying the feel of her naked skin against his as he nibbled at her earlobe and felt her melt against him under his caresses.

"So not fair…" she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around her and she sighed in contentment, nestling by his side. They lay there in silence for a while, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

"Do you really think he would approve? Duncan, I mean?" Kallian finally whispered.

"Of all the sex?" Alistair scoffed. "I was mostly joking, love. Obviously we are going to find another, more solemn place to…"

"No, I don't… it's not what…" She sighed, her fingers lightly caressing his chest. "What I mean to say… well… do you think he would approve, you know… of me?"

"Approve of you? He did approve of you. He deemed you fit to be a Warden recruit. That's the highest approval…"

"No, not me like that… I mean… us? You know, me with you? I know he was like… like the family you never had and I think… well, I just wondered if…"

Alistair tried his best not to laugh, with limited success.

"Is that the Hero of Ferelden, the slayer of dragons, the elf who unified the nation I hear struggling for words? You're so cute!"

She smacked him half-heartedly.

"Well,  _my_  family approves of you… that must feel nice, right?"

"Well… yes…"

Alistair stayed silent for a while, thinking it over, "Do you remember the day we met?"

"Huh… funny you should ask, I don't remember at all… oh, wait, wasn't it the day I was told by a king I was one of the most important people in the world, and by a quartermaster that I was dressed preposterously for a servant, all in the same hour? Oh, oh, and wasn't it the day I chocked on some tainted blood and had to start killing monsters for a living? Yes… it's vaguely familiar…"

"Well, who's being overly sarcastic now?"

"Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "Please continue."

"You know, before I met you that day, I came across Duncan. He had probably just left you a few minutes before that. He told me to 'be nice' to you. Then I said something absolutely witty and clever and not at all whiny and he said that… that I had to be 'especially nice' to you, because… you had been through a lot."

"Huh. So you're just following orders then?"

"Yes, that's right! You had orders to kill the Archdemon and stop the Blight, and  _my_  orders were to be especially nice to you. I have to say, I think I did exceptionally well on my mission and you… well, you did an acceptable job under the circum… ow!"

She was pummelling his chest with her tiny fists, crying out in outrage. He caught both her hands in one of his, laughing breathlessly.

"All right, all right! Listen… You're beautiful, and feisty, and strong. You did everything you had to, working relentlessly, to almost single-handedly stop the Blight. Never in the whole history of Thedas has a Blight been this short. You're kind, and you're brave. You fight for what you believe in… and you're just a little bit crazy. Approve of you? Maker, he would have loved you. I think maybe he would have kept you for himself."

"That's… very sweet… and a little gross. He was old!"

"Hey, but still sexy, or so I hear! Who could resist that beard?"

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

"All right, let's get dressed. We still need to find an appropriate place before tonight."

"Yes. This time, however, please try to keep your tiny little hands off my manly, muscular body. We need to find a place that will not be desecrated by your lusty thoughts!"

She raised her eyebrows at him, looking like she was about to retort, but an amused smile curved her lips before she could feign being indignant.

"Oh, I'll try to restrain myself."

* * *

He couldn't believe it. He found the perfect place.

They were on their way back from Highever and had spent the whole day walking through a very dense forest. As the sun started to set, their hopes of finding a nice place to camp were rapidly fading when they came across a breathtaking clearing. The ground was all soft grass, moss and little white flowers. The leaves of the trees surrounding them were just beginning to take on their bright autumn colours. The light of the setting sun was filtering through the branches, creating rays of light across the clearing.

That had to be a sign, certainly. Was it the end of that bad timing curse?

Kallian clutched at his hand, gasping softly.

"Look at that, Ali… isn't it just perfect?"

"Yes… just perfect." Unbelievably so, in fact.

"And look! A river!" she said, crossing the clearing. "Right down there! This is a perfect spot to set up camp!" She let her pack fall to the ground and knelt to open it.

"Yes… a perfect spot… Kallian, wait."

She stopped unpacking her tent and threw him a questioning glance.

"What is it?"

He went to kneel by her, taking her hand in his, gently removing both their gloves.

"There's something I need you to do for me."

"What? Make the fire?"

"Uh… no."

"Mend your socks?"

"No!"

"If it's that thing we did the other night, you know the drill. Bath first."

"No, it's not… wait, is it an option?"

She arched her eyebrows with that lopsided smile on her lips and he mentally shook himself.  _Focus._

"I need you… to remove that ring."

"What ring?" she asked, confused. "Oh, you mean my… my non-wedding ring? I don't even know why I still have it, I guess it's just like a… a memento or something… why, does it bother you?"

"Nothing about you bothers me, love. It's just… well, I need to ask you something and I kind of need that finger to be free for that…"

"Wha…" Her eyes suddenly went wide as she looked back at him, and he had to bite back a smile at the incredulous shock on her face. Her fingers closed around the ring and she began pulling at it, gently at first, then more and more frantically.

"It's… it's stuck! I can't get it off! I'm trying, I'm trying, I swear!"

He laughed at the trace of panic in her voice. "Stop pulling at it so hard! Here, give me your hand. You just need… a little help."

He took her tiny hand in his, gently running a thumb over the small golden band.

"You and me… we had lives, before we met each other. We had some good memories, some bad, some… truly awful. We bore the marks of these past lives… scars, on the body and on the soul."

He brought her hand to his lips, gently flicking his tongue over the ring, and he heard her breath catch.

"When I met you, I was about to lose everything that meant anything to me. And you… you thought you had already lost everything, and yet you were standing so tall, tiny as you were, jutting your little chin up every chance you got, reminding everyone that you were still there, that you belonged. I clung to you, to your strength, and haunted and broken as you were, you lead me back, you brought me up with you."

He flipped her hand and gently kissed her palm, moving slowly to lick around the base of her finger. She held herself absolutely still, but he could feel her hand trembling in his.

"You asked for my help and I gave it to you, without restrictions. I watched as you fought this darkness in you, as you struggled to become not only the person you had to be but also the person you wanted to be. In your time of need you turned to me and I knew… I knew what kind of man  _I_  wanted to be. I want to be the one you need, the kind of man who is worthy of a formidable woman like you. You made me want to change, to strive to be better. I fell in love with you so deeply, and it was… effortless."

He slid her ring finger in his mouth until his lips were wrapped around the ring, and he suckled on it gently, feeling it glide off her finger. Taking it from between his teeth, he put it in her right hand and closed her fingers over it. His other hand came up to her face to gently wipe the silent tears that were falling from her wide eyes without her even knowing it.

"We taught each other that some things are better left in the past. They are not forgotten, but we learned to rise above them, to draw strength from them as we draw strength from each other. And you, you showed me that we can make our own future, our own destiny… our own happiness. So… here I am."

He took out the little wooden box. "Uh… would you, maybe… stand up?"

She scrambled to her feet, sniffling and grinning widely, trying to stifle her sobs. He took a deep breath and opened the little box, handing it to her.

"Kallian Tabris, I love you. I can't live without you… You already know I would do anything for you. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together. I want nothing to stand in the way of our love, nothing that could separate us. So, would you… maybe… do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes!"

She tackled him to the ground, kissing him senseless. Gasping and laughing, he struggled to catch her hand and slid the engagement ring on her finger. She pulled back a little to look at it in wonder.

"I love you," she whispered, leaning on his chest to kiss him again.

"Ow, ow! Armour! Big metal plate armour, digging in my back!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Here, let me help you take it off, then…"

* * *

"So, what now?" he asked.

They were almost within sight of Vigil's keep, walking hand in hand. Their escort and guide (Mhairi, right?) was walking a little ahead of them.

"Well, now it's you and me forever, happily ever after, right? Find some new Wardens, rebuild the order, live in a castle, spend our many riches, order some Orlesians around…"

"Right…"

"What? Something's missing?"

"Warden-Commander!" Mhairi shouted. They looked at each other, feeling the familiar pull in their blood.

"Darkspawn…" Kallian mumbled as they both drew their weapons. "Of course, there's darkspawn. Are you happy now?"

Alistair smiled.

"I couldn't be happier."

* * *

**The end**

* * *

**_  
_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: So did you guess what the challenge was yet? :)
> 
> Here it is: The challenge was to give Alistair a happy ending where he stays a Warden (does not become king) and stays with the Warden (here, Tabris). So what do you say? How did I do? Did I succeed?
> 
> This story is so much longer than I thought it would be when I started it, and now I'm almost sad that it's over. I had a lot of fun writing this! To all my readers, I hope you enjoyed the ride!
> 
> A big thank you to Lorrain, one of my amazing reviewers on ffnet, who did an adorable artwork of Kallian! You can find the link on my profile!
> 
> You will also find on my profile a link to a commissioned portrait of Kallian and Alistair by the ever amazing Dasque!
> 
> A very special, heartfelt thanks to my beta, Epiphany sola Gratia. This story would not have been the same without her. I took certain risks I would never have tried if she didn't have my back. All remaining mistakes are my own and I take full responsibility for them. She's an amazing writer and I enjoyed working with her very much!


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